A First Time For Everything
by shvique
Summary: Mending a broken friendship can be difficult. But is it impossible? Jenny is determined to find out…
1. First Time-Chapter 1

**A First Time For Everything  
** A MLAATR-Inspired Fanfic  
By Shvique

 _All Characters are created by Rob Renzetti and are property of Nickelodeon/Viacom, Inc. No copyright infringement is intended or to be inferred, nor is any profit to be implied from the following. This is merely a work of fan-fiction inspired by characters and situations referred to above, for purely entertainment purposes only, by a fan with too much imagination and too much free time…_

 _Author's note: This story is a follow-up to my previous fanfic, "Resolution," and takes place shortly after the events detailed therein. Readers are strongly encouraged to read that story first (long though it is), before reading this one (or else very little of this story will make much sense.) In a nutshell, events have caused Sheldon's affections for Jenny to 'cool' considerably, and he no longer feels the same way about her as he once did. As to how Jenny reacts to this development, and what she intends to do about it…well…read on and find out…_

 _As before, comments/feedback on the story are welcome, so long as you keep 'em clean and reasonably constructive. (Swear-words, insults or personally abusive comments get a quick bye-bye straight to the delete-bin…)_

 **Chapter 1—Portents**

It was a beautiful Spring day in the small town of Tremorton, USA. The sun was shining, and the skies were a clear, cerulean blue, garnished here and there with puffy white clouds. It was a pleasantly-warm day, neither too hot nor too cold, with both sunshine and cool, refreshing breezes to make the day enjoyable for all; breezes strong enough to carry dozens of kites aloft in colorful profusion.

It was Saturday, and most of the town's residents, both young and old, had turned out in great numbers to Tremorton Park, to make the most of the beautiful day. The younger children played on the swings and slides of the playground, or flew kites, while the older children, teens and many adults played baseball or pickup games of soccer, volleyball and basketball, and the senior citizens kept themselves fit and trim by practicing yoga and Tai Chi.

Three of the younger residents, two boys and a girl—the boys being brothers, and the girl, their robotic best friend—were currently engaged in a rousing game of Frisbee. The game had begun simply enough, with each of the three tossing the Frisbee easily to their companions, but as might be expected in any game involving three very-competitive young friends, each one trying their best to out-do the others, the game soon became more hectic, rambunctious and above all, _competitive._ Soon, each player was no longer content to merely toss the Frisbee gently, choosing instead to fling it with great force, usually aimed several feet above the heads of his companions, causing them to either leap high or run back several yards to catch it. Which, of course, only made the game even _more_ challenging, fun and competitive for the three.

Thus it was that the older boy, Brad Carbunkle, red-haired and high-school-aged, flung the Frisbee to a point in space several feet above the head of his younger brother Tuck, who in turn, leapt high, nimbly snatching it out of the air with the aplomb of an Olympic athlete, before landing gracefully on his feet after completing the catch.

"Oooooo, great catch, Tiger!" Brad called out with a smile. He couldn't help but be impressed; he'd never expected his younger sibling to catch _that_ one.

"Yeah, great catch, Tuck!" echoed Jenny—also known as the Earth's Global Response Unit XJ-9, or the Teenaged Robot of Tremorton—as she clapped her hands in support of her young friend.

"And the crowd goes wild!" cried Tuck. "As young Tucker Carbunkle takes the Gold Medal in the International Frisbee-Catch Competition!" He followed up with a quick little victory-dance, after which he then rebounded with a vigorous launch of the Frisbee to Jenny, aiming it skyward. "Hey Jenny! Think fast!" he cried.

In response, Jenny also leapt high, and made a nimble catch of the Frisbee, without even resorting to the use of her built-in rocket-jets, before setting down on the ground as gracefully as a leaf settling upon the grass.

And so the game continued with carefree abandon, the three friends enjoying the freedom and joy of a Saturday afternoon in the Spring, all cares, troubles and worries forgotten.

Jenny was especially glad for the opportunity to let go, to truly let off steam and simply _enjoy_ herself again for a change. The past several weeks had been miserable for her, as she'd had to negotiate her way through some extremely difficult and challenging personal issues; issues that had soured her normally-happy disposition and nature, and had taken a toll on her personal relationships. She had become morose, moody and irritable, which even her best friend Brad had found increasingly difficult to deal with.

But in the end, she had managed to successfully resolve her difficulties, and afterwards, her overall spirits and mood improved dramatically. She was now back to her old self, her outlook both upbeat and cheerful, her energy back to its usual high level. She now enjoyed her life to the fullest again, and pursued her various interests with the utmost levels of exuberance and enthusiasm, able to once again engage in playful fun for its own sake.

The day had begun well for the three. As they often did on most Saturdays, they began by meeting at the skate-park near the shopping-mall and spending a few hours there, practicing various skate-moves, stunts and maneuvers. As always, Jenny had to make a conscious effort _not_ to use her rocket-jets, or any of her other super-capabilities that would have given her an unfair advantage over her friends. As naturally-competitive as she was, she had nevertheless learned over time to _pull back_ just a little bit in the use of her abilities when playing with her friends; just enough so as not to hurt their feelings by constantly besting them at _everything_ all the time. However, she didn't hold back _too_ much of her innate abilities, _or_ her naturally competitive spirit—after all, she didn't want to make things _too_ easy for her friends, either.

From the skate park, the three then headed over to Tremorton Park, where they spent the remainder of the day on games of soccer, volleyball, playing catch with a baseball, and eventually finishing off the day with the rousing game of Frisbee.

And yet, as Jenny played with her friends throughout the day, she seemed strangely… _distracted,_ somehow; preoccupied, as though her mind wasn't entirely on the games. It became more and more noticeable to Brad as the day wore on, although he didn't say anything about it at first. But now, as the three played Frisbee, Jenny's apparent distraction became more obvious, as she repeatedly turned away from the game to look behind her, over her left and right shoulders, as though looking in the distance for something or someone.

"Hey, Jenny!" Tuck called one of the times her head was turned. "Watch out!"

"Huh?"

Jenny turned back _just_ in time to duck and catch the Frisbee a split-second before it caught the leading edge of one of her two metallic ponytail-jets. It would normally have been an easy catch for her to make, and yet she'd nearly missed it. It wasn't the first such near-miss that she'd experienced that day.

"Cripes, Jenny, that one nearly clipped you!" Tuck cried, using a word he'd picked up from her. "What's with you today?"

"I'm fine, guys, I'm just—" She smiled sheepishly. "I'm just…holding back a little bit, that's all."

"You sure?" Brad said. "You seem a little out of it today; like your mind's not quite in the game or something."

"I told you, I'm fine."

"Well, why do you keep looking over your shoulder like that? Are you looking for somebody or what?"

" _No!"_ she snapped, just a bit too defensively. "I'm just… I'm trying not to make it look too easy, that's all!" She then held out the Frisbee, preparing to toss it. "But if you want, I can easily pick up the pace! So get ready, guys, here it comes! Hey, Brad! Go long!" With that, she hurled the Frisbee skyward in a long, high arc, causing Brad to charge back far afield to catch it.

And so the game continued, in much the same fashion, with Jenny continuing to steal occasional glances over her shoulder in between throws and catches, repeatedly scanning the surrounding area.

" _JENNY, LOOK OUT!"_ Brad cried out to her when her head was once again turned away.

"Wha—?" she said as her head whipped around, and for only the briefest of nanoseconds, her immediate field-of-vision was completely filled with the image of the Frisbee aiming straight for her face. Before she'd even realized what was happening or how her own automatic reflexes were reacting, her defensive eye-lasers activated, zeroed in on the flying projectile speeding toward her face, fired…

…and instantly incinerated the Frisbee.

"Oops…!" she said in a tiny, embarrassed voice. She covered her mouth with both hands and blushed a bright blue in embarrassment, as she surveyed the smoldering cinder lying on the grass that only moments before had been their Frisbee. "Sorry, guys…! I—I didn't mean to…!"

"Aw, _man!"_ Tuck cried as he flung his cap to the ground in exasperation. "That's the fourth Frisbee you toasted this year!"

"I'm sorry, Tuck! I didn't mean to! I—I couldn't help it! It was an accident!"

"That's what you said the _last_ time!" Tuck seethed in pint-sized fury. "And the time before that! And the time before _that!"_

"Easy, Tuck; easy. Settle down." Brad said as he approached his younger brother, placing a hand on his sibling's shoulder. "Take it easy. Jenny didn't do it on purpose. It was just an accident, that's all." He turned to face her; he wasn't angry, but he was clearly concerned.

Gradually, little by little, Tuck began to calm down, eventually reaching a point where, apart from some barely-coherent fussing and grumbling muttered under his breath, he said little more. Though he was still fuming inside over the ruined Frisbee, he was more or less used to this kind of thing by now, and took it in stride as part of the price he occasionally had to pay in order to be best friends with a super-powered robot. Though he wasn't currently in the best of moods to admit it—not even to himself—he, like Brad, considered it a very small price to pay indeed, and considered himself very fortunate to have such a wonderfully unique and remarkable friend as Jenny in his life.

"I'm really, really sorry, Tuck," Jenny said sympathetically as she knelt down beside him, gently placing her hands upon his shoulders. "Look, I'll make it up to you. I'll buy you a brand new Frisbee, okay? I promise. Just as soon as I get my next allowance."

"You promise?" Tuck looked at her, somewhat mollified.

"Promise!" She said, one hand raised, as though swearing an oath in court, and giving him a big smile.

In spite of himself, Tuck returned her smile. "Okay!" he said, his smile widening. He reached down and picked up his hat, placing it back upon his head.

"You don't have to do that, Jen." Brad said. "It was just a dumb accident, that's all. These things happen."

"No…no, I _want_ to." She rose to her feet and grinned nervously when she caught the quizzical look on her best friend's face. "You see, I'm… Well…let's just say I'm going to try to take more responsibility for my goof-ups from now on." She explained with an embarrassed giggle.

"Oh…all right… If you insist," Brad looked at his watch and sighed. "Well…tell you what, guys: it's getting kind of late. We should probably start heading back home now anyway." He walked over to where their picnic-blanket was spread upon the grass, then knelt down and began packing up their sports-gear, their now-empty lunch-bags and their other belongings back into a gym-bag he'd brought with them, while Jenny folded up the picnic-blanket.

"Come on, Tuck," said Brad. "Help me pack up."

"Aw, man!" Tuck moaned in annoyance, rolling his eyes. Like most kids his age when visiting the park, he hated when it was time to go home. Nevertheless, he did as instructed.

"Ease up, Tiger; you've had a busy day," Brad smiled, hoping to cheer his brother up. "You don't want to overdo it."

"Yeah, after all, you don't want to get all 'Tuckered out,' do you?" Jenny joked, as she knelt down beside the boys, packing the blanket into the gym-bag.

Tuck sighed and rolled his eyes; like he'd never heard _that_ one before…

"Tell you what," Brad offered, as he zipped the bag shut and hoisted it onto one shoulder. "We can stop by Mezmer's on the way home and I'll buy you a burger, fries & soda! And not the itty-bitty kid-sized meal, either, but the one you really like, the Mega-Meal!"

"Now you're talking!" Tuck cried, his mood immediately brightening. With renewed energy and enthusiasm, he now made a mad dash in the direction of the favorite local teen hangout/burger restaurant, with Jenny and Brad following close on his heels. _"Come on, come on, come on,_ you slowpokes!" he called out to them. "Let's _go!_ Let's _go!_ Let's _go!"_

* * *

A short while later, the three sat in a corner booth of the small restaurant. Brad and Tuck had each finished their hamburgers in short order, and were now sharing an extra-large order of fries, while Jenny sipped casually at a large can of Synthoil 20W-50.

As she sipped at her oleaginous beverage however, Jenny continued to glance around her, behind her, over her shoulder, just as she'd done earlier at the park, looking repeatedly in the direction of the restaurant entrance. Brad again noticed her curious behavior, but now, he chose to say nothing about it. Tuck, for his part, noticed nothing other than the fact that the extra-large order of fries sitting on the table seemed to be largely left unguarded, and therefore, ripe for the taking. He obliged by ferociously pouncing upon them like a ravenous jungle cat, and consuming the lion's share of them.

 _Darn…!_ Jenny thought as she glanced at the entrance for the umpty-umpth time. _I was really hoping he'd show up_ _here_ _, at least…!_

Brad narrowly observed her in silence. Tuck gobbled French-fries by the fistful…

* * *

Dr. Wakeman leaned forward, peering narrowly at the complex set of data on her computer-screen. She frowned, entered a few keystrokes to accentuate the points of data that attracted her attention, causing them to display in greater detail, and her frown deepened at what she saw.

 _I don't like the looks of this,_ she thought. _This does not look good… Not at all…!_

Just then, the front door opened and closed, followed shortly thereafter by the sharp _clack-clack-clack_ sounds of heavy metallic footsteps through the hall.

"I'm home, Mom," Jenny's voice called from the hallway.

"Mmm," Dr. Wakeman murmured in reply. "Oh, XJ-9? Please come in here for a moment. I need to speak with you."

The metallic footsteps ceased abruptly as Jenny halted mid-stride, and her entire body stiffened at the sound of her creator's cold, severe tone of voice. _Uh-oh!_ She thought. _Am I in trouble again? What have I done this time?_

She knew that tone all too well, and she knew that it signified something serious, often related to some mistake, foul-up or even just a minor transgression on her part. It frequently meant trouble of one kind or another for her, and after all the problems she'd just been through over the past weeks, the _last_ thing she needed now was more trouble.

She sighed, turned and slowly walked to her creator's study, stopping at the threshold to await the inevitable bad news.

"Yeah, Mom…?" she said meekly.

Dr. Wakeman turned in her swivel-chair to face Jenny. Her expression was grave, but she didn't appear to be angry exactly; just…concerned. Concerned about what, Jenny had no idea. She only hoped it wasn't because of anything _she_ did…

"XJ-9, I shall need you to be available at a moment's notice for the next several days," she stated matter-of-factly, coming straight to the point for a change. "I don't want you wandering too far away from home, and above all, I don't want you switching off your video-communication system, the way you sometimes do! I need to be able to contact you _immediately,_ at any time. Do you understand? You are to consider yourself on Yellow Alert status from this moment forward, until further notice."

"Um…okay… But why?" Jenny said, her body tensing up immediately. "What's going on? What have I done this time?"

"You've done nothing wrong," Dr. Wakeman replied. "And I suppose I should have mentioned something about this before, but…well, what with your conscience-program behaving so erratically last week, and your…personal issues related to that, I didn't feel I should burden you with any more problems to deal with. However, now that you've managed to resolve that particular issue, I feel I can at last tell you about this one. I can 'let you into the picture,' so to speak."

She paused, as if for dramatic effect, and Jenny took the cue, bracing herself for what was to come. "Okay…" she said. "What is it?"

"Well, what is going on is…" Dr. Wakeman hesitated. "Well…you see, it's been so long since Tremorton has experienced a major crisis, that I now think we're overdue for one. I believe that we may be facing a major catastrophe very soon; that there is something looming on the horizon of a nature and magnitude that we haven't experienced for a very long time."

"Why do you say that?" Jenny asked. "Is there something on one of the space-monitors or something?"

"Well…not exactly." Dr. Wakeman said, in a vaguely _evasive_ tone. "But I have been examining the results of some fresh data I've run through the computer this morning, and…well, it doesn't look good. In fact, it could indicate something very bad indeed."

"What kind of data?" Jenny asked, puzzled. "I haven't picked up anything on the police or fire frequencies. Or the Skyway Patrol or military frequencies, either."

"Well…the data I'm looking at is from the…" She hesitated. "…the Hasslein Probability Curve."

"The _what?!"_ Jenny half-laughed. "What the heck is that?!"

"The Hasslein Probability Curve," Dr. Wakeman repeated. "One of the biggest, most and significant projects that I've been working on for the past ten years! The one for which I gave a presentation in Stockholm last year! I know I've spoken to you about it before! _Numerous_ times! Don't tell me you've forgotten! Or perhaps you weren't listening in the first place! Is that it? You weren't paying attention, and so everything I said simply went in one audio-sensor and right out the other? Is that it, perhaps?"

Jenny responded with a feeble shrug, her head cocked to one side, trying her best to appear as innocent as a newborn babe.

Dr. Wakeman sighed in exasperation. "Honestly! I don't know why I even bother trying to tell you anything!" She fumed. "You never _listen_ to me! I try my best to teach you everything I know, keeping you informed on all the latest developments in all my various fields of research, but do you listen? Do you care? No! You simply tune me out, ignore me, and—"

"All right, all right, Mom!" Jenny exclaimed, wincing. "You've made your point! You've got my attention now, all right? I'm listening… I'm _listening..."_ She looked at her creator directly, devoting her full attention, and resigning herself to the fact that, like it or not, she was about to be subjected to another one of her creator's lengthy science lectures. She only hoped that it wouldn't turn out to be _too_ long or boring… And that it wouldn't begin with the now-dreaded words: _'It all began with a_ _ **huge**_ _explosion…'_

"Very well then," Dr. Wakeman began, patiently. "The Hasslein Probability Curve Program is a highly intricate and complex computer program I've designed and developed, based upon the theories of the late Dr. Manfried von Hasslein of Waffleburg University. Its purpose is to calculate estimated probabilities of certain major events occurring in the future; events such as the many catastrophes and crises which tend to strike Tremorton with such alarming frequency. You see, it has long been my belief that these events are not merely the product of random, chaotic chance, but _may,_ in fact, be part of some elusive, obscure pattern. It was Dr. Hasslein who first speculated about the existence of recurring 'event patterns' in the fabric of space-time over fifty years ago. He theorized that, although the universe as a whole is indeterministic in nature—meaning that, due to the uncertainty principle, we can never completely predict future outcomes with 100% certainty or accuracy, no matter how precisely we're able to measure the starting conditions and no matter how large a data-set we're working with—it _may_ nevertheless be possible to calculate—or at least calculate estimates of—the _probability_ of certain major events occurring in the future, within a specified timeframe. He theorized that these events could even appear and reappear in very specific, recurring patterns which might exist in the natural ebb and flow of the fabric of space-time; patterns which he couldn't detect in his time, but which he believed that others might perhaps one day discover in due time. Are you with me so far?"

Jenny nodded, trying to at least appear to be interested in the subject, and hoping that she wouldn't be called upon to take a pop-quiz on the material in a few weeks' time. _I sure wish Mom would realize that, no matter how hard she tries, she's never gonna turn me into a science-geek!_ She thought.

"Now, these hypothetical 'event patterns' are, as I said, very obscure and elusive in nature, and therefore extremely difficult to detect; nearly impossible, in fact." Dr. Wakeman continued. "To most observers, the events may simply appear to be completely unrelated and unconnected phenomena. And Dr. Hasslein's theories are still not entirely accepted within the scientific community, either. Most of my colleagues consider his theories to be sheer crackpottery, in fact! They don't believe these 'event patterns' even exist, or that it's possible to detect them even if they do. But I disagree. After conducting my own researches in the field for many years, I now believe that, although it may be very difficult to detect these 'event patterns,' it may not necessarily be _impossible._ I believe it _may_ be possible to detect them, given a sophisticated enough computer-program, a powerful enough computer, and a large enough data-set upon which to operate."

Dr. Wakeman paused to take a sip of tea, while Jenny uneasily shifted her weight from one foot the other, struggling to remain awake and alert and not accidentally slip into 'sleep mode.' _Cliff-notes version, Mom…!_ she silently pleaded. _Cliff-notes version,_ _please_ _…! Let's get to the point!_

"Now…this program I've designed—which I've named the Hasslein Probability Curve Program—has, I believe, done just that!" Dr. Wakeman announced with a broad smile. "Yes, yes, I know; it may sound hard to believe, but it's true! I believe I've successfully cracked 'The Hasslein Probability Problem!"

 _At last!_ Jenny thought hopefully. _It sounds like we're finally coming to the point soon!_

"Now this program uses a very large data-set for its operation; _huge,_ in fact, going back over ten years, and utilizing multiple data-streams of various types, from all parts of the globe. There's data from thousands of subterranean seismographic probes placed hundreds of feet beneath the earth's surface, in various locations around the world, measuring even the tiniest of seismic tremors. There's data from thousands of oceanographic probes placed at various points along the ocean floor, measuring such things as micro-changes in ocean currents, micro-changes in temperature, varying salinity-levels and so forth. There's data from a number of observatories, both terrestrial and space-based, including the Nerva One Deep Space Station, and many, many others. In short, I've included _every_ kind of scientific data I could think of, from both inner and outer space, anything that I thought could be useful or relevant. And after years of running all this data through the program, double-checking and cross-checking the results to rule out possible mistakes, miscalculations, false conclusions, faulty or inaccurate data…or even so-called _'junk data',_ I'm now satisfied that the program has successfully passed the testing-phase, and has successfully detected the existence of 'event patterns' in the space-time continuum! It has consistently, repeatedly and accurately predicted more than 80% of the major events to strike Tremorton over the past forty-two months!" Dr. Wakeman beamed widely, like a small child who'd just received a much-desired toy on her birthday. Clearly, there was no mistaking the intense pride she felt at her accomplishment. "It has validated the Hasslein Hypothesis!" she smiled.

Jenny, meanwhile, simply folded her arms and patiently waited for her creator to indicate that she had arrived at something resembling a conclusion. "Okay, sooooo…therefore, _what?"_ she asked, with a single raised eyebrow. "I mean, this program you designed sounds really cool and I know you're proud of it and all that, but what's it got to do with _me?_ What's it got to do with _any_ of us, for that matter?"

"Well, don't you see?!" Dr. Wakeman exclaimed, as though the point should be obvious. "Now that the program has detected the existence of recurring 'event patterns' and has consistently forecast a significant percentage of past major events, it can be used to make projections into the future, and forecast the likelihood of _future_ disasters and catastrophes! Which, in turn, will allow us to better prepare for such events in advance, _before_ they strike!"

Jenny stared blankly at her creator. "So…wait a minute. Let me get this straight. Are you telling me it can predict the future?" The expression on her face, coupled with her tone of voice, clearly indicated that she didn't believe a word of it.

"Well…not exactly _predict_ the future, per se… It can only forecast the _probability_ of certain events occurring within a certain timeline, based upon a very-specific set of circumstances and a very-large, highly-inclusive set of data. But…in a very-rough manner of speaking, and putting it _very_ roughly in layman's terms…I suppose you could say that the program can, in a sense, predict the future."

Jenny simply stared at her creator, wondering if the long hours she'd been working on her various projects had finally gotten to her, and that she was now finally beginning to crack up. "You're kidding, right?" She said.

"No, I'm _not_ kidding!" Dr. Wakeman scowled. "I _never_ 'kid' when it comes to science, XJ-9! You should know that!"

"So that means we can pick winners at the racetrack or go to Vegas and clean up at the casinos, right?" She grinned.

Dr. Wakeman sighed and rolled her eyes. _"No,_ XJ-9!" she exclaimed, regretting for the moment that she'd designed a robot with a sense of humor. "It can't do that! It wasn't designed for silly, trivial purposes such as that. And it can't predict anything that _specific,_ either; certainly nothing so narrowly-defined as the results of a game of chance in a casino, or the results at a race-track. It can only forecast estimates of the _likelihood_ of certain _major,_ even _catastrophic_ events, and only in the most general of terms."

Jenny continued to stare at her creator in silence for a seeming eternity. At last,

Dr. Wakeman rightly suspected the skepticism behind the blank stare, and asked, "Well…? What do you think? Or has the cat got your vocoder-circuit?"

"Oh, I don't know, Mom…" Jenny finally replied as tactfully as she could manage. "It sounds pretty far-fetched to me…awfully tough to believe..."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure it does," Dr. Wakeman said, with just a touch of annoyance. "But look here, XJ-9, you cannot ignore the evidence," She entered some keystrokes into the computer, and the graphic which had displayed on the screen vanished, replaced by another chart, indicating a more extensive time-frame, and displaying more inclusive and detailed data. She pointed to various points on the screen with a pencil as she explained further, and Jenny bent over to examine them for herself.

"Observe," Dr. Wakeman went on. "In running data from the past forty-two months alone, I've discovered that every single major catastrophe that has struck Tremorton was first preceded by a series of seemingly-random, seemingly-unconnected bizarre anomalies occurring all over the world within a 28-day period, as if these events were precursors, or preliminaries to the 'main event' that ultimately struck Tremorton. You see how these small 'precursor events' all appeared in very specific patterns? See how they all preceded the major event which ultimately struck Tremorton in the estimated time-frame?"

Jenny examined the chart more closely, then shook her head. "Um…nope, sorry, Mom, but I don't see a pattern there."

Dr. Wakeman sighed. "Look again. Look very closely. Notice how so many of the smaller events appear in clusters within a 24-hour period. Now look at the _numbers_ of those events within each period. Now observe how those numbers _diminish_ over time. Now look at the _ratio_ of that diminution. Now do you see what I'm getting at?"

Jenny did as directed and examined the chart _very_ closely. Suddenly, her face brightened and she broke into a huge smile. "Oh, I see!" she said. "It's a kind of number-sequence! Like a Fibonacci series!"

"Precisely!" Dr. Wakeman exclaimed, delighted that her daughter had, at last, understood. "Except that it's in reverse-order! Instead of getting larger and larger, the number of events become smaller and smaller, but each individual event becomes bigger and bigger! The first three 'event clusters' appear in a random number each, then every 24 hours, the number of new events diminishes by a certain ratio, and the ratio of that diminution is a product of the preceding numbers, eventually resulting in a '1', with that '1' being the 'biggie,' the 'Main Event' that usually—but not always—eventually strikes Tremorton."

"Okay," Jenny replied cautiously. "I think I'm with you so far…" she half-conceded. "But—but look here, these 'Biggie Main Events' on this chart you've got here are all from the past; _months_ ago! What was it you said about running some _new_ data this morning?"

"I'm coming to that right now," Dr. Wakeman replied with a satisfied smile, pleased that she had at last managed to capture her daughter's attention and interest. She entered more keystrokes, and the graphic on the computer screen changed yet again, returning to the chart displayed earlier, only now newly-updated with fresh data, and in greater detail. Dr. Wakeman again pointed to each indicator on the chart with a pencil. "Now, look at this set of candlestick indicators for the past seven weeks, of the various anomalies and unusual phenomena from around the world. Just _look_ at them all! Do you notice anything? They're all red; _flashing_ red, in fact! This one, for example, is for a series of seismic anomalies in Kyrgyzstan. Five minor earthquakes in a row, within five days of one another, each one measuring _exactly_ 3.14159 on the Richter-scale! Did you hear me? All five measuring _exactly_ 3.14159! Do you realize how unlikely that is? What the odds against it are? In the _billions,_ at least, if not the trillions!Theoretically, _it cannot happen!_ But it _did!_ Or you take this one," Dr. Wakeman now spoke with growing rapidity and agitation. "This one is for an undersea, unexplained mass sponge-migration near Fiji. True, they only migrated approximately 18 inches, and the migration itself occurred over a period of forty-eight hours, so it could only be detected and recorded by means of time-lapse photography, but still! It's _unexplained!_ It's a _mystery!_ Or you take this one, a sudden, unexplained increase by 0.01762% in the hedgehog population of Doncaster, UK. And an _identical_ increase of 0.01762% in the population of banana slugs in Santa Cruz, California!" She shook her head. "Hmm….no information reported yet as to how these facts were determined however…or by what means they arrived at these figures… Pity...I should like to have known that…" She paused, then focused on another area of the chart. "This one is for a mysterious astronomical phenomenon reported over Tunguska, near Siberia: a streaking flash of light, apparently originating from the Comet Kawaye! And…well….too many other strange, unusual phenomena to be ignored." She shook her head. "No, no, you add up all these seemingly random improbabilities, and run them through the Hasslein Probability matrix, and it all adds up to one thing: An even _bigger_ improbability on the way! A _giga-improbability,_ if you will."

Jenny simply regarded her creator in silence, then shook her head. "It's _still_ awfully hard to believe, Mom," she said. "I mean, I can sorta see those number-sequences you were talking about, but other than that, I really don't see any connection between any of these events, to be honest. Or any connection to anything that could possibly affect us here in Tremorton either, for that matter."

Dr. Wakeman looked at her daughter, crestfallen. Jenny caught the look on her creator's face, and she continued, but in a gentler tone. "I mean…I know you put a lot of work into this thing, but …" She paused. "Well, couldn't all these weird events just be a coincidence?"

Dr. Wakeman blinked in surprise, as though the possibility suggested was one that had never occurred to her, and that she didn't even want to consider. "Well…yes, I suppose these events _could_ be simply coincidental in nature," she conceded softly. "There is definitely that possibility, and I suppose I cannot ignore it."

She fell silent for only a moment, before she spoke again, the tone of her voice quickly regaining its former firm, confident tone. "However," she said. "I _still_ believe that the Hasslein theory is sound and that these conclusions _are_ valid. In which case, these phenomena, when run through the Probability matrix, all indicate a 98.66666% probability of significant event occurring in Tremorton very soon, within a few days, possibly; within a week or two at the most."

"But what _kind_ of event is it gonna be?" Jenny asked, at least trying to take her creator's far-fetched theory seriously enough to apply to concrete, real-world terms. "You mean like another meteor on a collision-course with the earth? A massive electromagnetic pulse about to strike and shut down the internet and the electrical-grid? Another Martian invasion of New Jersey? A crazy arch-criminal on the loose, about to steal a million dollars' worth of nickels from the US Mint? A giant earthquake about to strike Louisiana? A tsunami about to strike Nebraska?" Dr. Wakeman shook her head at each option offered. "Well, _what,_ then?" Jenny demanded, with increasing exasperation. "I mean, you must have _some_ idea what to expect, right?"

"I can't tell for certain," Dr. Wakeman said with a feeble shrug. "As I said, the probability-curve program isn't that specific."

 _Then what good is the stupid cockamamie thing?!_ Jenny thought in a growing pique. _And why should I care?!_ "Well, can you tell me if this," she said. "This expected event, whatever it is, is it liable to come by land? Or from space? Or could it be something dredged up from the sea, like the Bromdollusian Sludge-Monster? Something like that?" More head-shaking from Dr. Wakeman was the only response to each option suggested.

"Will it come from the North? South? East? West?" Jenny pleaded, her patience rapidly running out. "Can you give me a _hint?!_ Am I getting warm? Am I getting cold? Am I in the _ballpark,_ at least?!" A feeble series of shrugs was the only response.

"Well, what exactly _can_ your stupid program tell me?!" Jenny demanded, her patience now having reached its limit.

"All I can tell you is this," Dr. Wakeman frowned, irked at the descriptive of her program as 'stupid.' "Whatever it is that's on the horizon coming this way, it's going to be a real doozy; something that _no one_ could have foreseen. In fact…" She turned to face the chart again, narrowly scrutinizing it for just a moment. "…the last time I saw a pattern similar to this was some months ago, just before we…" She shuddered, and her voice broke off mid-sentence. "No…no, I'm telling you: _Something_ big is coming this way very soon, and whatever it is, it's going to be a real doozy!" She paused, and leaned back in her chair, looking at her robotic daughter directly. "So…just…be alert, be on your guard and be prepared to—" She chuckled at the irony of the expression that came to her mind. "Well… _expect the unexpected!"_

' _Expect the unexpected!'_ Jenny thought with silent derision. _A lot of good_ _that_ _does me! Years and years of research, tons and tons of data, countless hours of computation-time and number-crunching, and_ _that's_ _the best you can come up with? 'Expect the unexpected?' Cripes, I could've gotten_ _that_ _out of a fortune cookie!_

"But Mom…" she said cautiously. "What if… I mean, just suppose this…'doozy' never happens? What then?"

"Well…if the…'doozy' ultimately never happens," She took a deep breath, her eyebrows raised. "…it could simply mean that I may have made a slight miscalculation somewhere along the line that I didn't detect, something that slipped through the testing phase. Or that the data I've used may be slightly flawed in some way. Or inaccurate. Or incomplete. Or the conclusions drawn and the predictions made are simply based upon insufficient evidence."

 _Or it could just mean that the whole kooky theory itself is a bunch of baloney!_ Jenny thought. However, she chose to keep this opinion to herself, unwilling to argue the point any further. "All right, Mom," she conceded with a sigh, by now weary of the entire subject. "Just in case your goofy probability program _is_ onto something and a real doozy _is_ in store for us, I promise I won't wander very far from home, and I'll be ready at a moment's notice. Just like I always am."

Dr. Wakeman regarded her daughter in a vaguely-suspicious silence for a moment; then, satisfied that Jenny had gotten the message and accepted the warning, she turned her attention back to the computer screen. "Well…all right, then…" she said. "Just…be prepared; that's all I ask."

Jenny responded with a small nod of acknowledgment, then turned and left the room. Just as she did so however, a fresh stream of data flowed into the computer, causing the chart to automatically update with new changes. The chart now spiked in several places, with even more indicators flashing red on the screen.

 _This does not look good…_ Dr. Wakeman thought as she pored over the fresh data. _Not…at…all…_

* * *

The truth was, Dr. Wakeman was not alone in her concerns. Her feelings of unease and apprehension were shared by many of the townspeople of Tremorton, including the town officials, even the mayor (who, naturally, expressed his concerns to others on a strictly "off the record" basis.) All experienced vague but growing feelings of nervous anticipation, as though they were all waiting for a ticking bomb to go off. They were tense, edgy, jumpy.

"It's not natural!" was the most-common sentiment expressed. "For this town to go this long without being struck by a disaster, a monster attack or an alien-invasion or _anything?_ It's unheard of!" Or, "Nothing like this has ever happened before in the whole history of this town!" Or, "It must be an evil omen! A portent of bad things to come!"

Publicly, of course, the mayor and town officials did their best to put up a bold, brave front when addressing the issue. "Nothing to be concerned about, we assure you," they said, dismissing any and all expressed concerns out of hand. "This town has all the necessary resources to deal with any emergency of any kind at any time, and we are fully prepared to meet any crisis we may encounter." Privately, however, many of them began to hoard such necessities as food and drinking-water, stockpiling cans and jars of non-perishables in their cellars and basements—basements which were, naturally, constructed like bank-vaults and bomb-shelters. Many people, such as the Mayor, had even invested in emergency electric generators.

"Just in case…" was the explanation quietly offered to close friends and family-members. "Just in case… Because…well…you never know…"

* * *

Sunday morning and afternoon soon arrived, and for Jenny, Brad and Tuck, it followed in much the same fashion as Saturday had. The morning consisted of a few hours spent at the skate-park, followed by a leisurely stroll over to the park for a few hours of volleyball, soccer and playing catch—with the only variation being the substitution of a football to take the place of the incinerated Frisbee of the day before. And, like Saturday again, the time passed all too quickly, and soon, it was time for the three to return home.

"Can we stop at Mezmer's again on the way home?" asked Tuck as he helped pack the football and other items back into the gym-bag.

"Can we?" Jenny echoed hopefully.

"Naw, sorry, we can't today," replied Brad. "We've got Sunday dinner waiting for us at home, and Mom doesn't want us spoiling our appetite on burgers and fries again today. Besides, tomorrow's a school day, so we have to be home fairly early tonight."

At the mere mention of school, Tuck's face noticeably soured. Brad grinned at the reaction; he remembered being that age all too well, when school seemed to be mostly a tedious, boring chore to get through. _Just wait a few years, kiddo!_ he thought with a knowing smile. _When you start to notice girls, you'll find a whole new reason to look forward to school!_

But when Brad turned down the suggestion of heading to Mezmer's, Jenny's reaction was also one of disappointment. Her reaction was so subtle however, that Brad didn't even notice it. Nor would he have suspected the real reason behind it.

"Well, come on," Brad said, zipping the gym-bag shut and throwing it over his shoulder. "Let's go."

The three friends walked several blocks until they were approximately three-quarters of the way home, when Jenny suddenly halted in her tracks, with a curious look on her face.

"Um, guys?" she said. "I'm…gonna take a slight detour home today. I'll see you both a little later, okay?"

"Um…sure, Jenny," Brad replied, slightly puzzled. "Anything the matter?"

"No, no, nothing's wrong. I just want to check on something, that's all. It'll only take a few minutes."

"Want us to go with you?" Tuck offered.

"No, no, thanks; that's all right. It's just a…" she hesitated. "Well…it's just a personal matter."

"Oh. Okay," Brad replied, now even more puzzled.

"If you see my mom, tell her I'll be home a little later. Okay?"

"Sure, Jen. See you."

"'Bye," She turned and trotted off in a direction opposite from her usual route home.

"'Bye," said Tuck, both boys waving after her as she departed.

* * *

A short while later, Jenny arrived at Sheldon's house. As she approached the front door, she felt strangely uneasy, sensing that something, somewhere was wrong; something which compelled her to investigate. After a moment's hesitation, she reached over and rang the doorbell, then waited patiently.

 _I sure hope he's okay,_ she thought. _He was so upset on Friday night… And then I didn't see him anywhere all weekend… I thought for sure he'd show up at the park, or Mezmer's, but…_

After a few moments, her ultra-sensitive audio-detection sensors picked up the faint sounds of footsteps coming from inside, approaching the door, and she clasped her hands tightly together.

But the moment the door opened, she was immediately disappointed. For it was not Sheldon standing in the doorway, as she'd hoped, but rather a woman, whom Jenny estimated to be 'parent-age,' somewhere in her late thirties to early forties. The woman was small, even petite, approximately five-feet-one or so, Jenny estimated, and slender—almost as petite as Pteresa from school. From the first glance, Jenny noted that the woman bore an uncanny resemblance to Sheldon: In addition to her small, slim stature, she had jet black hair, streaked with strands of silver here and there, and worn in a casual, yet stylish page. Her eyes were deep, dark, almond-shaped and penetrating, glittering with a sharp, active and incisive intelligence, and accented by a pair of sharp, prominent cheekbones. Though not unattractive, the woman's face had a careworn look to it, as though from many years of carrying the burdens, worries and cares that invariably went with the responsibilities of parenthood.

Also, it seemed to Jenny that the woman gave off a decidedly… _intimidating_ air, as of one who has, through years of hard effort and struggle, achieved a position of unquestioned authority, and who was used to being in control of any and all situations at all times. Though Jenny had never met the woman before, she immediately recognized her to be Sheldon's mother.

"Yes?" The woman said, regarding Jenny with a penetrating gaze.

"Um…hello, Mrs. Lee, is Shel—"

"It's _Doctor;_ not _Mrs."_ The woman corrected Jenny sharply.

"Oh…excuse me, Dr. Lee," Jenny said, awkwardly. "Could you tell me—"

"It isn't Lee, either," The woman corrected Jenny again, with a faint scowl. "It's _Toshiro. Doctor_ Toshiro."

"Oh…excuse me…" Jenny replied again, this time even _more_ awkwardly. "I—um…I'm sorry, I thought that—um…" The blue LEDs beneath Jenny's cheeks began to glow with embarrassment at her twin _faux pas_ in a row.

"Sheldon took his father's name," Dr. Toshiro explained. "I kept my family name. And it's the name that I bear upon my Diplomas and Degrees."

"I—I beg your pardon, Dr. Toshiro," Jenny said, immediately humbled, feeling both very impressed and very intimidated. "I'm…Jenny Wakeman. Sheldon's friend from school. Maybe…maybe you've heard him mention me…?" She paused, waiting for a response of some kind. Dr. Toshiro, for her part, betrayed no reaction, no emotion, other than a vague… _disapproval,_ it seemed to Jenny. "Can—can you tell me, is—is Sheldon home?" Jenny asked in a tiny, subdued voice.

Dr. Toshiro regarded Jenny with an icy stare for several long moments. "Just what was it you wanted to see him about, Ms. Wakeman?" she asked, her arms folded.

"I—I just wanted to talk to him for a minute or two. That's all."

"What about?"

"Well, I just…um…I just…wanted to…see him…that's all…." She paused with a tiny shudder she hoped wasn't noticeable. "You know…just a friendly visit. Like I said, I'm a friend of his."

" _Are_ you now…?" Dr. Toshiro asked coldly, her eyes narrowed and with a detectable scowl upon her face. Jenny grew more and more nervous and uncomfortable with each passing moment, the way she felt at school when questioned by a teacher about an unexcused absence, or a late homework assignment…or a destroyed classroom wall.

"Um…yes…I am …" was all Jenny could utter.

Another long, cold silence followed before Dr. Toshiro replied, "Well…I'm afraid Sheldon is…well…he isn't available right now."

"Oh. Um…okay…" Jenny hesitated. "Um…can you tell me when would be a good time when I could see him?"

"I really couldn't say, Ms. Wakeman." The words were simple, but Dr. Toshiro spoke them with a distinct _chilliness,_ matching her overall tone and attitude.

Jenny could no longer ignore the emotions behind the nonverbal cues, and she found that she just had to respond to them. "Is—is Sheldon all right, Dr. Toshiro?" she asked. "Is anything wrong with him?"

Dr. Toshiro frowned. "I don't believe that's any of your business, Ms. Wakeman," She said bluntly. Her tone was quiet, but as hard and sharp as cold steel. "And if my son wanted you to know the details of his personal life, I believe he'd have told you."

Jenny's mouth dropped open in shock, and inwardly, she reeled at the bluntness and thinly-veiled hostility behind the words. Now there could be no mistake or doubt: Dr. Toshiro definitely did not like Jenny in the slightest; from her words, tone and general demeanor, she clearly bore some sort of grudge against Jenny, and Jenny had the uncomfortable feeling that she knew why.

"Oh…! Er…um… O—okay…" she stammered, taking a tiny step backward. "I—I'm sorry I bothered you, Dr. Toshiro… But—um…if you could please tell Sheldon I stopped by, I'd sure appreciate it." She tried her best to sound friendly and ingratiating, but it didn't seem to make even the tiniest dent in Dr. Toshiro's icy stoicism.

After a seemingly interminable silence, Dr. Toshiro replied with a small nod, "All right. I'll tell him." She spoke the words evenly, almost tonelessly, as she began to close the door.

"Okay. Thank you, Dr. Toshiro." Jenny said as she took another step back, and started to turn away. As she did, she gave Dr. Toshiro what she felt was her friendliest, most winning smile.

Just before closing the door however, Dr. Toshiro spoke again. "Ms. Wakeman?" she said.

"Yes, Doctor?" Jenny replied, turning back hopefully to face her.

Dr. Toshiro folded her arms once again and regarded Jenny with a frown. "Just so that we understand each other, Ms. Wakeman," she said, quietly but meaningfully. "If you ever hurt my son again… _I will take you apart with my own hands, piece by piece_ if I have to. Do you understand?" To Jenny, it sounded like less of a threat than a definite promise, and she felt a sudden chill, as though all the coolants in her body had instantly dropped by 20 degrees.

"Ulp…y—yes, Dr. Toshiro; I understand," Jenny replied in the subdued, submissive voice she often used with her creator and her teachers, after she had _really_ screwed things up big time.

"Good," Dr. Toshiro regarded Jenny with a chilling smile. "Just so we understand each other. Good-bye." With that, she closed the door.

Jenny shuddered, then slowly turned and walked home, slowly at first, then more briskly. Without even intending to, she suddenly realized, she had somehow managed to acquire a new and formidable enemy…

* * *

"Who was that, Mom?" Sheldon called out from halfway down the stairs.

"No one," his mother replied, as she stepped away from the front door.

"I thought I heard my name mentioned," he said, now having reached the foot of the stairs. "Was it anyone I know?"

Dr. Toshiro regarded her son soberly and replied with a sigh, "Well, if you _must_ know, it was that…that _robot_ girl. The one who attacked you a few weeks ago."

Sheldon blinked in surprise and he swallowed reflexively; then his face noticeably drooped. "Oh," he replied in a small voice. He turned away and slowly walked toward the kitchen. "You mean…Jenny…" he said.

"I told her you weren't available," his mother continued. "And that is true; you're _not._ And you know _why."_

Sheldon sighed and closed his eyes. "I know, Mom; I know…"

"You needn't look so disappointed," She said, as she followed her son into the kitchen. "I can't imagine why you would even want to see that… _robot_ girl anymore anyway. Not after what she did to you."

Sheldon winced, shutting his eyes tightly. "Mom, please. Don't start. It's over and done with. Let's not go into it all over again."

"Well, pardon me, for being concerned about my only son, and wanting to protect him from a dangerous, deranged killer robot," Dr. Toshiro continued sharply. "But if wanting to protect my own flesh and blood from that mechanical monster makes me a criminal, then so be it; I suppose I'm guilty as charged."

Sheldon sighed, but otherwise did not respond. Instead, he turned and looked directly at his mother. "You know, you never did tell me howyou found out about that incident, by the way." He said. "I know _I_ never mentioned it to you. So how do you happen to know all about it?"

Dr. Toshiro approached her son and gently placed both her hands on his shoulders, and looked deeply into his eyes. She gave him what was intended to be a reassuring smile, but which, in many circumstances, often ended up achieving quite the opposite effect. This was one such instance.

"Sheldon," she said softly. "I'm your mother, remember? I'm not stupid. I can see right through you. I can practically tell what you're thinking. And, if you remember, when you were very young, and before I took on the role of Chief Surgeon at Tremorton General, I also held a seat on the City Council for many years. I _still_ have plenty of friends downtown, with plenty of connections, official and otherwise, numerous sources and back-channels of information, people who can and do keep me informed about anything and everything that concerns me, my profession, my community _and_ my family. Now, knowing all of that, do you _honestly_ believe that there is anything that could happen within a one hundred mile radius of this town that could jeopardize the health and safety of my own son, that I wouldn't know _something_ about? Or at least _hear_ about?"

"No…no, I suppose not…" he finally conceded. It was true: Trying to keep almost _any_ kind of secret from his mother had long since proven to be next to impossible.

"Besides, you haven't exactly been forthcoming with _me_ , about how you became involved with that government agency in the first place," she went on. "Nor can I understand how you could have legally gotten a job with them, since you're still technically a minor. I'm no lawyer, but I believe you _do_ legally need parental consent to get even a part-time job—especially one as hazardous as that! And yet, you never even asked me for it! You never even discussed the matter with me!"

Sheldon sighed in weary exasperation. "I already told you, Mom; that wasn't _exactly_ a job; it was more like a…a…an internship, for…gifted students. Something I thought you'd approve of. And I didn't tell you because I thought…well…um…I thought it would make a nice surprise."

Even though the story was well-rehearsed within Sheldon's own mind, it was obvious—especially to his mother—that not one word of it was true.

"Another thing I don't understand," Dr. Toshiro went on. "Is why you never came to me and _told_ me about what that…that _robot_ did to you."

Sheldon sighed and rolled his eyes. "I already _explained,_ Mom! I didn't tell you about it because that whole experience was humiliating enough as it was for me, and I didn't want to make it worse by getting you involved in it and making a big thing out of it."

 _'Making a big thing out of it'?!_ Dr. Toshiro thought in astonishment, as she silently echoed her son's words. _This was 'a big thing' young man! _

But before she could say anything, Sheldon continued. "I just wanted to…handle it myself, and…I did." He paused. "At this point, I just want to put the whole thing behind me and…and forget about it." _If I can!_ He thought, wincing.

"Besides," he went on, his tone acquiring a hard, accusatory edge. "You're never _around_ that much! Even if I _wanted_ to tell you! Most nights, you don't get home from work until real late, way after I go to bed. And in the morning, you usually sleep late! So it's not like I can—"

"Sheldon!" Dr. Toshiro said firmly, cutting him off. "That's enough! Now you know my job is important to us. We need the money, for one thing. After all, there is no one else available to pay the bills for us, and take care of us, if I don't do it myself."

Sheldon said nothing, but looked away, and—unnoticed by his mother—his jaw tightened.

"Furthermore, I do have certain responsibilities, certain duties and obligations as Chief Surgeon at Tremorton General, one of which is that I must be on-call whenever I'm needed, almost any hour of the day or night. Whenever I am needed at the ER or trauma-ward, I go in, and that's it, no arguments, no excuses. There are simply too many people who are dependent upon me. My being there at the right time could literally mean the difference between life or death for someone."

She paused, allowing her son to absorb and reflect upon her words, and slowly, almost reluctantly, Sheldon turned to face her again.

"Now…I would certainly like to have more free time to spend with you and help you to deal with your various problems and issues," she went on, in a softer tone. "Believe me I would. I would _like_ to be there for you when you need me. But unfortunately, that just isn't possible. Other people need me too; people whose lives literally depend upon me."

"I know, Mom; I know…" Sheldon said quietly.

A silence followed for a moment, before Dr. Toshiro continued, her voice subtly regaining her usual authoritarian tone.

"But…be that as it may," she said. "And regardless of why you chose not to tell me about that…incident, you still haven't answered my other question. Namely: Why on earth you should even want to get near that…that _robot_ again."

"Mom, I _don't!"_ Sheldon exclaimed, more vehemently than he'd intended. "At least…not anymore. I already _told_ you: it's all over and done with between me and her. It's over. I'm over _her."_ He paused, then shrugged and finished in a much softer tone. "I'm not planning on…getting anywhere near her ever again."

Dr. Toshiro regarded her son with due sympathy. It was clear that she didn't believe his disclaimers any more than she believed his story of his involvement with the secret government agency. Nor could she ignore the pain that was evident in his voice as he spoke. It was obvious that, despite his best efforts to conceal it, a part of him was still hurting inside.

"Well…I just hope she realizes that, young man." She said gently. "I truly hope she does. Because she seems to believe otherwise."

"Oh, I doubt that," Sheldon replied. "The truth is, she never really liked me all that much to begin with, so I doubt she's going to suddenly start now."

* * *

End Chapter 1


	2. First Time-Chapter 2

**A First Time For Everything**  
A MLAATR-Inspired Fanfic  
By Shvique

 **Chapter 2—Initial Overtures**

And…once again, the weekend was over all too soon, so far as the students of Tremorton High were concerned, and it was back to the same old grind of daily school life, with all the stresses, hassles, and countless hours of palpable _boredom_ that went with it. In addition to which, there was also now a growing anxiety, fear and tension over the inevitable approach of Final Exams as well. Monday morning was therefore greeted by all with the excitement and enthusiasm of a visit to a dentist's office for a long-delayed wisdom-tooth extraction.

The only thing that made the school-week bearable—even enjoyable—for Jenny was, of course, the extra time it allowed her to spend with her friends, particularly on the walk to school in the morning, and the walk back home at the end of the day. Though it was by now a routine for her which rarely varied by a hair, Jenny nevertheless enjoyed these walks, particularly the conversations that went along with them. Jenny, Brad and Tuck would always set off in the mornings together, making a slight detour along the way to drop Tuck off at elementary school, before Jenny and Brad would then proceed to Tremorton High. They usually set a leisurely pace, never in any particular hurry, and usually engaged in conversation about one subject or another of great interest to them both.

They spoke of many things: mundane subjects, such as which classes and teachers they found more annoying and tiresome than others; the dreaded late-night cramming sessions they knew they'd have to endure once Final Exams drew near; and above all, how many more tedious weeks of school remained before the welcome Summer Vacation would officially begin.

Tuck mostly tuned out during these conversations, and his mind and attention tended to drift and focus elsewhere, enjoying small private games of his own imagination, such as walking an imaginary tightrope along a crack in a sidewalk, or performing an imaginary skydiving-stunt from the top of a fire hydrant. Now that he seemed at last to have outgrown the weird phobias to which he'd often fallen prey when he was younger, his games of make-believe had become much more imaginative and adventurous in nature. Brad assumed it was simply a part of the growing-up process, but he also wondered if perhaps some of it might be due to the positive influence that Jenny had upon their lives. Perhaps Jenny's demonstrated courage and bravery, even when facing seemingly impossible odds as she often did, had encouraged Tuck to face and overcome his own fears and phobias as well. It was a definite possibility. But either way, Brad figured, it was a good, healthy development in Tuck that had certainly made him much easier to live with, and—more importantly—to play with and have fun with.

And of course, Jenny and Brad also spoke of other, more pleasant and interesting subjects as well, such as who was currently dating whom, who had broken up with whom, and who was likely to be asked to the Junior Prom by whom, what plans they each had for the Summer once it finally arrived, and above all, how they each planned to keep their sanity intact during the remaining weeks of school. Not surprisingly, the discussions about the upcoming Summer Vacation tended to grab Tuck's attention, and he expressed the greatest interest and enthusiasm in them, contributing many ideas and suggestions of his own. Few of his ideas were, of course, very practical in nature, and Brad and Jenny had to patiently explain to him that a weekend campout on one of the moons of Jupiter was probably not likely to happen, however much he might want it.

Yet, in the midst of all of these conversations, just as had been the case over the weekend, Jenny seemed distracted, continually glancing to her left and right and even occasionally behind her, over her shoulder.

And just as he had over the weekend, Brad noticed it, and as before, he was reluctant at first to say anything about it. But in light of the events of the previous weeks, he couldn't escape the feeling that _something_ was going on, and after a while, he finally felt the need to speak up.

"Okay, Jen, come on," he said. "'Fess up. What is up with you? Who—or what—do you keep looking for? And don't tell me it's 'nothing,' because I won't believe you."

Jenny's head whipped around, momentarily startled, as though a closely-guarded secret of hers had been discovered. She shook her head, and a curious look came into her eyes. "I'm not looking for—for anything." She hoped her mid-sentence correction wouldn't be noticed. "I'm just…" she struggled to think of a plausible answer; fortunately, her conversation with her creator the day before came to her mind. "I'm just…being alert. See, my mom told me she thinks that Tremorton _might_ get hit with a major crisis or catastrophe of some kind in the next few days, and that I need to be on Yellow Alert for it."

"Oh. Is _that_ all," Brad replied casually, almost nonchalantly, as though it were the most ordinary, commonplace announcement he'd ever heard. Major catastrophes—and Jenny rushing off to deal with them at a moment's notice—were so commonplace in Tremorton, that Brad—like most residents of the small town—had become almost used to them by now.

"Did she say what kind of catastrophe it's gonna be?" he asked.

"No," Jenny shook her head. "All she said was that, whatever it is, it's liable to be a real doozy, of such an unusual, even unpredictable nature, that I need to be ready to deal with _anything_ at any time." She smiled. "So I'm just…keeping all my sensors tuned to maximum sensitivity, that's all."

"Oh. Okay," he nodded, accepting her answer. "Well…whatever it turns out to be, I hope it doesn't end up being _too_ much of a hassle for you." He grinned, fully confident in Jenny's ability to handle any crisis.

Shortly thereafter, the pair arrived at their school, stepping through the front doors and down the hallways, through the milling crowd of students as they proceeded to their lockers. They turned one corner, and then another, when suddenly, there in the distance, Jenny spotted a familiar, diminutive figure in a maroon hoodie, standing at the open locker beside her own, as he rummaged around inside, pulling out an occasional book now and then, placing it under his arm with some others.

It was Sheldon.

Immediately, Jenny's face brightened and she broke into a huge smile, her overall spirits and body-language perking right up.

"Um…Brad?" she said, turning to face her friend. "I'll catch up with you a little later, okay?"

"Um—yeah, sure, Jen." He said, mildly surprised by her abrupt change in mood. "I need to get moving anyway. If I'm late for Mr. Flagenspahn's stupid English Comp class one more time, he's gonna hand me my head on a platter." He turned down a side hallway with a wave and a smile. "Well, see you later."

"See you," Jenny returned his wave, then turned and continued down the main hall, quickening her pace to her locker. In moments, she stood beside Sheldon.

"Hi, Sheldon!" she said, greeting her smaller friend with a bright, cheerful smile as she opened her locker and placed her backpack inside, then began rummaging through its contents, pulling out textbooks, notebooks and other items.

Sheldon turned suddenly to face her, startled, then immediately relaxed. "Oh! Um…hi…Jenny…" He spoke quietly and pleasantly, but with little enthusiasm. His overall demeanor was also pleasant, but surprisingly subdued and reserved, in marked contrast to what it had once been in former times, when he'd fairly gushed with overflowing admiration for her whenever she came near.

"I looked for you at the park on Saturday and Sunday, but you never showed," she said, her smile diminishing slightly into a faux pout. "I was hoping you might like to…you know, join us, and play some games with us, but you never showed up."

Sheldon pulled a book out of his locker, placed it under his arm along with the others, but said nothing, and never made eye-contact with her.

She continued. "I looked for you at Mezmer's too, but you never showed up there, either."

Sheldon turned and regarded her quizzically. _What the heck's she talking about?_ he wondered. _The park? Mezmer's?_ Then, after a moment's thought, he remembered: It was something she'd mentioned, almost in passing, just at the end of their long, emotionally-draining talk on Friday night.

"Oh…oh…yeah…right…that…" he said, as he struggled to recall the details of the conversation. "Sorry I couldn't make it, but…" He paused and shrugged. "Well…something came up, and I…just couldn't make it."

The faux-pout of Jenny's face increased slightly, approaching a genuine one, as she studied him in silence. _Should I say anything about how his mom spoke to me yesterday?_ She wondered. _I should…! After all, she_ _was_ _pretty rude to me! But…no, no, I better not… The last thing I want to do is to stir up any trouble between him and his mom. I already caused enough grief in his life as it is!_

Instead, she merely said, quietly, "I waited for you for a whole hour."

He looked at her again, now even more puzzled. _Huh?_ he wondered. _Why would she care whether I showed up or not?_

"Oh… Well…I'm sorry, Jenny," he said, turning back to face his locker. "But…like I said, something came up, and I just couldn't make it, that's all." He closed the locker-door, and started to turn to walk away, when Jenny spoke again.

"Nothing serious, I hope." she said, then lowered her voice to a quiet, confidential tone. "Was it… I mean, did it…have to do with…you know…what happened that day out at that compound? Or some of the other stuff we…you know…talked about…? On Friday night…?"

"No, no, it had nothing to do with…that." He shook his head, still not looking at her.

"Are you sure?"

Something in her tone of voice caught his attention, and slowly, he turned to face her again. He studied her face closely, but he couldn't quite read her emotion. It was strange, he couldn't exactly tell for sure, but…she almost seemed to be genuinely concerned about him. He'd never seen that in her before; most of the time, in fact, she acted as though she couldn't care less about him _or_ what happened to him.

It was perhaps her sudden, unexpected interest in him that compelled Sheldon to speak openly, frankly and honestly to her. "Well…to tell you the truth, Jenny…" he said quietly. "I've been grounded."

Jenny's eyebrows shot up and her pupils contracted to tiny pinpoints. "You've been _grounded?"_ she exclaimed. She couldn't believe her own audio-sensors. _"You?!_ I don't believe it!"

"Yeah," he replied, nodding. "For two weeks."

"What the heck for?" she frowned, still having difficulty imagining such a thing.

"Well, 'cuz I…" he swallowed, nervously. "I—I cut school on Friday afternoon…and when my mom found out about it, she got really steamed." His tone was heavy with shame and contrition, as though he'd just confessed to an especially loathsome and egregious crime.

"Oh…" was Jenny feeble response, her gaze lowered. "Yeah…that's right…you were missing from school for part of that day. I…forgot about that…"

An awkward silence followed for a moment, as Sheldon glanced nervously about, as though to avoid looking at her.

"I'm responsible, aren't I?" she said quietly.

His jaw tightened. "No, no, this isn't—" he said.

"Yes, I am. It's all my fault." she continued, the pitch, timbre and cadence of her voice all increasing with her every word. "'Cuz I hurt you and scared you, and I chased you around all over the place, 'til I finally scared you out of school completely! It's all because of me that you—"

"Jenny, this has nothing to do with you, okay?" Sheldon interrupted, raising his voice. "It was _my_ decision to cut school. _I_ broke the rules, and—and so now I have to deal with the consequences. That's all there is to it." He gave a weak, feeble shrug. "See? Simple, really. So…no, it's not your fault."

Jenny merely stared at him, dismayed. Clearly, she didn't accept his explanation in the slightest.

"Well…if you say so," she said. "But…I still feel responsible. And I _am_ sorry about you being grounded."

He shrugged and sighed. "Well…I…I appreciate that…" He paused. "But…it doesn't matter. I'm still grounded, either way." He glanced at his watch before Jenny could respond, and went on, "Anyhow…I gotta get to class." With that, he abruptly turned from her and with a final, halfhearted wave of his hand, he hurried off down the hall. "See you," he said, over his shoulder.

"Yeah…see you…" Jenny replied quietly. She felt strangely… _let down_ inside. Not only because she felt sorry for Sheldon, and felt responsible for his being grounded, but also because she wanted to spend at least a _little_ more time with him, to talk with him a bit more, to do more than exchange a few simple, empty words.

 _Well…_ she thought. _It's still early in the day... Maybe we'll have more time to talk later on, in between classes, or at lunchtime, or just before one of our afternoon classes or…something…_

She closed her locker, turned and headed off to her first morning class.

* * *

The truth was, Sheldon really didn't mind being grounded. Oh, it was painful for him to be reprimanded or disciplined for _any_ reason; though he never would have admitted it to anyone, he took a certain amount of pride in being generally regarded as 'a well-behaved kid.' And it pained him to be the cause of such an unpleasant scene between himself and his mother. It had been a long time since he'd seen her so angry. In fact, she was downright _livid_ when she'd found out he'd cut school _._ She was so angry that, in hindsight, he realized he was probably lucky to have gotten off relatively lightly, with only a two-week grounding, and nothing more.

But other than that, he really didn't mind the punishment too much, having to come directly home from school, with no detours or stops along the way, and then having to hang around the house over the weekends, as though he were under house-arrest. He didn't really have much of a social-life anyway, and so he wasn't really missing out on very much. True, he did miss spending time with his fellow gaming enthusiasts down at _Legendary Warriors_ —they were just about his only real peer-group, after all.

And, of course, there was also the issue of his workshop-privileges being suspended. That was the only part of being grounded that _really_ irked Sheldon. Because among other things, it also meant that his plan to begin dismantling _Silver Shell_ had to be placed on-hold for the time being.

But being grounded did have some advantages too, the primary one being that it allowed him plenty of time to _think,_ to fully assess and prioritize many things in his life, to examine and analyze his values, and decide which things were really the most important to him and why, and which of the life-paths before him he would likely ultimately choose when the time came.

And, of course, with the passage of time, the anger, bitterness and anxiety he'd felt over his experience with Jenny also began to recede, and in their absence, he gradually returned to his former good-natured spirits and upbeat disposition. He even began to feel the old stirrings of hopeful enthusiasm and even optimism, neither of which he'd felt in quite some time. The only difference now, of course, was that he reserved his enthusiasm for subjects other than Jenny Wakeman…

And, of course, he continued to formulate plans for approaching his mother about the subject of transferring to another school. So far, he hadn't even mentioned it yet. His mother had been _so_ upset over his cutting school on Friday night, that he'd had to put off the subject for the time being. He knew that, given the mood she was in, any discussion of changing schools was out of the question. He therefore decided that the safest course of action would be to simply wait for a few days, and give her a chance to cool off; _then_ he'd maybe take a chance on raising the subject with her. And, with continued good behavior and good grades on his part, then perhaps she just _might_ be a bit more receptive and amenable to the idea.

So he would wait. And while he waited, he would continue to make plans, not only for transferring to another school, but also for the types of courses he might like to study there. He pondered what kind of curriculum that a more technically-oriented school might have to offer, what sorts of challenging subjects might be available, that he might interest him. Mastering such challenging material at such a prestigious technical school would no doubt stand as a noteworthy achievement in his academic record, one that could help propel him to even greater and more rewarding scholastic achievements in the future, a prospect which warmed his heart. He smiled at the prospect, imagining himself as one of the youngest recipients of a Doctorate of Science in history…

And, of course, his thoughts also drifted to other, non-academic subjects as well. Naturally, even inevitably, being the otherwise normal, healthy, 17-year-old male that he was, it wasn't long before his thoughts turned to the subject of _girls…_

The one thing which he _had_ firmly decided in this regard was, of course, that he would no longer spend any more time trying to pursue Jenny. That had led to nothing but disaster for him, proving to be not only a futile waste of time, but also a definite threat to his physical safety as well. Even though she eventually apologized for her actions, Sheldon found it didn't really matter that much to him anymore, possibly because the apology was so late in coming. Perhaps she was truly sorry; perhaps not. It didn't matter. Because either way, Sheldon knew that he could never entirely trust Jenny again. She may not be a 'bad' girl per se—or even a 'bad robot'—but she _was_ dangerous, of that Sheldon had no doubt, and he could never risk allowing her the opportunity to hurt him again.

And so he wouldn't; it was that simple.

He made the decision in the cold light of reason, without any lingering bitterness or rancor. He simply acknowledged the reality of the situation for what it was, decided accordingly…and had moved on.

 _Well…_ he thought, _now that it's all over as far as Jenny is concerned,_ _maybe…maybe I should start thinking about other girls… Maybe one of them might be willing to go on a date with me…_

He struggled to think. The girls who expressed _any_ level of interest or even civility toward him were darned few and far between, he knew; still, if he really put some serious thought to it, he felt he _might_ be able to come up with at least a couple of possible candidates…

 _Let's see…_ he thought. _Who else is there…? Maybe Bernice…? She's a nice girl… She was kind to me once before, a few weeks ago, when Jenny was absent for awhile, doing that whole home-schooling thing… And I was all depressed about it and everything…Bernice was the only one who showed me any kindness when I really needed it… And then what did I do? I turned right around and dumped her when Jenny came back, that's what I did! Stupid,_ _stupid_ _,_ _ **stupid**_ _big dumb jerk that I am!_ He smacked himself in the forehead at the recollection. _But…but maybe…maybe if I apologize to her and say I'm sorry…then maybe she'll forgive me…and give me another chance... Maybe…_

 _Or if not, then maybe Ashleigh… She seems like a nice girl, too… And she always has such interesting questions and comments during the classroom discussions! Maybe she might be willing to go out with me sometime… I suppose she's kinda out of my league, though; she's way better-looking than me, after all… Still…she's always been nice to me whenever I talked to her, and there aren't very many girls I can say that about…_

 _Or if both of those girls turn me down, then maybe that foreign-exchange student from Russia, Tina I think her name is… She seems really nice, too… And smart! I think she's supposed to be some kind of math genius or something, a real prodigy, maybe even smarter than me! And a real whiz in chess-club, too, I heard! Yeah, I bet we'd have a lot in common! And I remember she smiled at me real nice in physics class once, too… So maybe…maybe she might like to go out with me…sometime… Maybe we could go visit the science museum together…and see that new exhibit they've got about the Sagan Deep Space Observatory…! Yeah…! I bet she'd like that…!_

As Sheldon thought about it more and more, he began to realize that other options _were_ available to him, and that there were at least a few girls here and there who'd been friendly to him, had treated him well, and who he now thought _might_ be worth approaching for a date. It was funny, but…he had never really thought about them very much before; he'd been so obsessed with Jenny for so long that he never really paid much attention to any other girls besides her. But now that Jenny was effectively out of the picture so far as he was concerned, these other girls now seemed to be at least within his reach. Perhaps…just perhaps…by setting his sights a bit lower than Jenny, there was a chance of finding some real happiness with one of these other girls instead…

And as he thought about all the prospects that now lay before him, his possible future at a new school, and the other girls whom he might approach, his spirits continued to improve, and he began to look forward to the possibilities that the future might bring.

And he began to feel that, somehow, everything was going to be all right; that his luck was at long last beginning to change for the better, and that things were finally starting to go his way.

* * *

The rest of Monday morning dragged on intolerably-slowly as it always did, the students struggling valiantly to remain awake as their teachers droned on about dull, boring subjects that they'd all long since lost interest in, while counting off the minutes and hours remaining until lunchtime. The end of the school-day was, of course, also longed-for, but seemed so far off in the distant future, that it might as well be another century away…

Throughout that morning, Jenny saw very little of Sheldon; only the briefest glimpses of him now and then from a distance, down at the far end of a hallway, often just as he scurried into or out of a classroom. Only once during the entire morning did the two pass near enough to each other as to allow them to speak together directly, face-to-face.

On that occasion, just as she had earlier that morning, she'd made a special effort to be extra friendly to him, greeting him with her warmest, most ingratiating smile, and a cheerful, upbeat, "Hi, Sheldon!"

But as before, his only response was another pleasant but tepid, "Oh…hi…Jenny," accompanied by a weak, and somewhat forced, smile. His tone likewise contained little enthusiasm, and his pace never slowed as he drew near her, barely glancing at her…as he kept right on walking.

"Hey, Sheldon, wait!" Jenny called out in surprise once she realized he'd walked right past her. "Don't you want to stay and talk awhile?"

"Um…sorry…can't," he said, over his shoulder as he continued down the hall. "Gotta get to a class," he pointed off in the distance of the direction he was headed. "I've…got some make-up work to do, on account of skipping class on Friday afternoon. You understand."

"But—"

"See you," he said with a quick, token wave of his hand, then turned his face forward, picking up his pace to a near-trot.

Jenny stood stock-still, as though she'd experienced a sudden power-loss in her primary energy-cells. _What the heck just happened here?_ She wondered.

The entire encounter lasted no more than a few seconds. But it was enough to leave Jenny feeling stunned, confused, disappointed…

…and more than a little _hurt._

 _Did he just…snub me…?_ She wondered.

She shook her head, as if to dispel the thought. _No, no, it can't be! It can't be!_ she told herself, as she slowly turned and headed to her next class. _It's probably just because he's grounded, that's all. Sure! He's probably got a lot of stuff on his mind, 'cuz of that… Not only is his mom mad at him, but so are the teachers and vice-principal Razinski too, most likely… They're probably_ _all_ _on his back, giving him grief! Plus he's got make-up work to do, and who knows what else… Sure! That's all it is…that's gotta be it! After all, whenever I get grounded, I get pretty cranky and sulky, too! So yeah, that's probably all it is… Once he's through being grounded, I bet he'll cheer right up and be his old self again, and then things can finally get back to normal again between us!_

And yet, even as she told herself all this, a small, tiny part of her began to get the uncomfortable feeling that it might not be quite that simple…

* * *

And so the morning dragged on, until at last, mercifully, the lunchtime-bell rang. Almost as a single body, all the students throughout the entire school rose from their seats, enlivened and invigorated by the bell as if awakening from a long, deep hibernation, and streamed _en masse_ from the classrooms, like water gushing from a fire-hose at full force, all charging straight for the cafeteria.

As always, Jenny and Brad were among the first to arrive at the cafeteria, and as was customary for them, he got into the bus-line to get his lunch, while Jenny grabbed a seat at their usual table. A short while later, he joined her, sitting down beside her with his tray. And as always, he regarded the mess that lay before him on his tray with unconcealed disgust.

" _Yeccchhhhh!"_ he said with a sour face. "I didn't think it was even possible, but I swear the food in this place is getting even _worse!"_ He prodded the contents of the meal with his fork, examining what he could only assume was supposed to be a hunk of either meat, fish or poultry—though _which_ of these it could be, he couldn't even guess. (It appeared to be a blob of semi-congealed grease mixed with raw sewage—which Brad strongly suspected it _was_.) Similarly, he poked at the soggy mass of what appeared to be pulverized lawn-clippings beside it, marinated in an unidentifiable, grey-green oleaginous sauce, and his revulsion only grew.

"Oh man, I don't even wanna _know_ what that is!" he grumbled in disgust as he poked and prodded the wet, Astroturf-textured-and-colored, semi-gelatinized mass with his fork. He sighed resignedly, shut his eyes tightly, took deep a breath, and steeled himself to the inevitable task of the First Mouthful of the Day. He opened wide…placed a forkful of the unpalatable mush into his mouth, closed his lips, chewed a few times and...

Well…at least he hadn't gotten his hopes up too high… (And at least he hadn't felt the urge to spit it right back out again.)

And, with several swallows of soda following, he was at least able to get it down the pipe without _too_ much gagging…

He shook his head when the ghastly concoction had at last safely descended his gullet. "Believe me, Jen, you don't know how lucky you are, not to have to eat this slop," he said when he was able to speak again. He took more swallows of soda, and gave her a sickly smile. "Instead, all you need's a can of oil, a bottle of jet-fuel and a quick recharge now and then, and you're good to go!"

She smiled at him in response and took a drink from her can of Synthoil, then turned and glanced around the rapidly-filling cafeteria.

Brad noticed. "What are you looking for now?" he asked, by now weary of asking the same question over and over and never getting a satisfactory answer. "Expecting a giant sludge-monster to invade the cafeteria or something?" He smiled, his question intended in half-jest, although such occurrences were by now so common in Tremorton that it no longer seemed quite outside the realm of possibility. "If you ask me," he went on. "I think this mess on my plate is the _real_ sludge-monster of Tremorton!"

"Well, I was just—" Jenny began, haltingly, completely overlooking the humor of his half-joking question. "Well, I…I thought that maybe Sheldon might like to join us for lunch today." She turned back to face him. "You don't mind, do you?"

He shrugged. "Why would I mind?" he said. "It's fine with me. I don't care."

She then turned and scanned the room again, until at last she spotted Sheldon stepping through the doorway and heading for the bus-line. She kept her eye riveted on him as he slowly passed through the line, collecting food items onto his tray, before turning and proceeding into the seating-area. She waved over to him, trying to catch his attention.

But just as she thought she'd caught his eye, and was about to beckon him over to join her, he suddenly turned away, as though he hadn't seen her. He headed in an oblique direction, away from the main crowd, toward a table in a far corner—one of the few remaining that still had any seats available—where he sat down to join a small group of boys already seated there. Jenny immediately recognized them as Sheldon's gaming friends.

 _Darn!_ She thought with minor annoyance. _I thought I caught his eye! Why'd he turn away like that?_

"Something the matter?" Brad asked.

"No, no…it's…nothing…" Jenny said, as she turned her attention back to him and resumed sipping at her can of oil. "I just—couldn't get his attention, that's all."

"Oh…" Brad said, as he glanced in the direction where Jenny seemed to be looking. "Well, I guess he just wants to sit with his gaming friends today, that's all." He gave another small shrug. "That's okay; he can always sit with us tomorrow if he wants to."

"Yeah…" Jenny said simply. She then turned to face him. "You never got into role-playing games, did you?"

"Nah," he said with an indifferent shake of his head as he took a drink of soda.

"I didn't think you did." She said, with a tinge of regret. "Just not interested?"

"Well…" he said. "I tried reading that book of instructions Sheldon gave me for that game he and his friends are into, but I just couldn't get into it. I couldn't make head nor tail out of it, and by about the third page, I was totally lost. It didn't make _any_ sense to me."

"Oh," Jenny said simply, and left it at that.

She then changed the subject to one they both shared, and from there, the two had resumed their usual lunchtime banter and chitchat, on many of the same sorts of topics they discussed during their morning walks to school. But just as it had been during the weekend and that very morning, Jenny's attention was clearly focused elsewhere, as she repeatedly stole glances in the direction of the corner lunch-table.

 _Darn!_ She thought, setting down her oil-can. _I was really hoping we could all sit and have lunch together, like we used to, so that we could go back to being friends again, but—_

"Hey, Jen?" Brad said.

"Hm?" She looked up, her eyebrows arched as if startled.

"You all right? You were kind of frowning there for a minute. Anything bothering you?"

"No, no, I'm fine," she said, as she picked up her oil-can and resumed sipping at it, draining it in half the usual time. "Nothing's the matter, I'm fine, I'm fine… Everything's fine…" She continued to glance furtively in the direction of the far corner of the cafeteria, as her steel fingertips drummed nervously on the table surface.

Brad merely observed her in silence.

* * *

"Well, well, look who's here!" Quinton greeted Sheldon with a smile as his friend sat down to join the small gathering of gaming enthusiasts at the lunch-table. "The Gavilan Gargoyle Game Master of Tremorton himself!"

Sheldon grinned at his friend's reference to his encyclopedic knowledge of the game they all enjoyed. "Hey, guys!" he said with a smile.

"Glad you could join us, O Great and Powerful Wizard!" said Flynn, as the other boys at the table chimed in with similar sentiments, each bowing in Sheldon's direction, as though to a respected and revered _Sensei._ "You honor us with your presence, O Keeper of all Gavilan Knowledge and Lore!"

"All right, all right, that's enough," Sheldon replied with an embarrassed smile, displaying false modesty at the attention and good-natured ribbing he received from his friends, when in truth, he relished every word of it.

"Well, at least the Wizard seems to be in much better spirits today, anyway!" noted Phred, as he gagged down a mouthful of the inedible pulp that was the midday meal. "And the townspeople were much pleased!"

"That's true," agreed Gerard, nodding. "At least, you don't look like your world's coming apart at the seams anymore. Say, what the heck was up with you last week, anyway? Did your copy of the latest issue of _Trek Wars_ get lost in the mail or something?" he smirked.

"No, no, nothing _that_ serious," Sheldon half-smiled in return. "It was…just a personal matter. Nothing major. It was just…" he hesitated, not really wanting to go into further details. "Well…it doesn't matter. It's over and settled now." He paused. "I'm sorry if I was acting like a jerk on Friday, though."

"Ah, don't worry about it," said Quinton, echoed by similar responses from the rest of the boys. "We're used to it by now. I—I didn't _mean—!_ " He gulped and blanched, suddenly realizing too late what his words sounded like. "I—I didn't mean it to sound the way it did, like I'm implying you're _always_ a jerk or anything, I only meant—" he hastened to clarify and rectify his verbal clumsiness.

"I know, I know," Sheldon interjected with a dismissive wave of his hand. Like the other boys at the table, he also knew all too well how easy it was to inadvertently say the wrong thing in the wrong way and end up sounding like an inarticulate clod as a result; he'd certainly done it himself enough times in the past; certainly more than he would've liked to admit.

"Any chance of joining us for a gaming-session today after school?" asked Gerard, in between the forkfuls of food he pounded down his gullet as though he were starving.

"Nahhh, sorry guys; I can't," Sheldon replied. "I've been grounded for two weeks. For cutting school Friday afternoon."

"Wow!" exclaimed Flynn. "Two weeks? Jeez, that's rough!"

"Bummer!" remarked Gerard.

"That's too bad," agreed Quinton. The other boys likewise expressed sympathy and disappointment.

"Yeah, but…well, that's…you know, that's life; just the roll of the dice, that's all." Sheldon nodded sadly. "Oh, by the way, before I forget: Phred was right. The other day? That play that Gordo made on the 13th level of _Gargoyles of Gavilan?_ Totally against the rules. He's gotta lose four rolls of the dice as a penalty."

"See?! I _told_ you! I _told_ you!" exclaimed Phred, punctuating his words with punches to his friend's shoulder.

"Waitaminnit, waitaminnit!" Gordo objected, rubbing his shoulder. "How do you figure that?"

"It's very simple," Sheldon explained. "On the previous three—no, two—rolls of the dice before that, you said you drew an obstacle-and-hazard card that said, according to the runes on the dice, that your scout stepped into a sinkhole and broke his leg, right? So that meant he couldn't have climbed the rope ladder to lead the team to the next level, so—"

"No, but wait, see, my elf-healer was able to fix his leg with a healing-pouch, so—"

"No…no…" Sheldon interrupted, shaking his head in an all-knowing, professorial manner. "She couldn't have done that, 'cuz she already used up three healing-pouches on the levels _before_ that and didn't get any fresh ones in the meantime, so that left her with only one pouch left by Level 13, and according to page…" he paused, deep in thought. "...fifty-nine of the official rule-book, fourth paragraph, on any level above Level 12, any injuries sustained are automatically twice as severe, and require a minimum of _two_ healing pouches to heal. So your elf-healer couldn't have healed the scout's broken leg with only one pouch to do it with, and therefore your scout couldn't have led the team up the ladder with a busted leg. So if you did it anyway, then it was totally against the rules. Four dice-roll penalty. Case closed." He concluded his discourse with a long, triumphant swallow of soda.

The small gathering regarded Sheldon in amazed, impressed silence. Then, slowly, painfully, Gordo closed his eyes, and an agonized expression crept over his face as he realized his mistake during the game.

"Shoot!" he muttered quietly as he conceded defeat at last.

"I _told_ you!" muttered Phred one last time with a final punch to his friend's shoulder.

"Say, wait a minute!" asked Gerard incredulously. "You actually _remember_ all those details? That was way last Friday morning when all this came up. You looked so out of it at the time, I didn't think you were even listening."

"Well, of _course_ I remember!" Sheldon replied, mildly indignant. "Whattaya think, I'm stupid or something? Geez! Give me credit for having _some_ sense!"

"Say, guys!" Quinton spoke up suddenly, with an abrupt change of subject. "I just had an idea! Since Sheldon's not available, do you think maybe Jenny might like to join us for a gaming-session instead?"

"Hey, yeah! I bet she would! Let's ask her" agreed Flynn.

But at the mention of Jenny's name, Sheldon noticeably stiffened. "Um…I don't know, guys… I don't think that's such a good idea." He said, frowning.

The others all looked at him in bewilderment. "Why not?" asked Gerard.

"'Cuz I don't think she's…really into this stuff all that much, to tell you the truth. I think…" he started to say more, but then stopped.

"What do you mean, 'she's not really into it'?" asked Phred, puzzled.

"Well, I just mean that…" He paused, then continued with a sigh. "It's just that…well…sometimes I get the feeling that…she's just been…laughing at us behind our backs all this time. Like we're all just a bunch of geeks and nerds and losers; just one big joke to her."

Now they all regarded him in stunned, wounded silence. They couldn't believe what they'd just heard.

"Oh…I…I can't believe that," Quinton said, the first to voice the objection they all shared. "That doesn't sound like Jenny to me at all." Still, his expression indicated that it was at least a remote possibility that he hadn't considered before.

"No, no," agreed Flynn, shaking his head. "The Crust Cousins or Pteresa, definitely, or the rest of that snotty 'popular' bunch, yeah, I could see, but not Jenny. That doesn't sound like her at all." Though from his tone of voice, it was obvious that he too was at least considering the possibility, however unlikely he knew it to be.

"I agree; she always used to enjoy playing with us in the past…." said Phred, though quite feebly.

"At least… _sometimes_ she did..." added Gordo, tepidly. "Ya know, when she wasn't busy fighting off giant, glowing, radioactive space lobsters or something."

"Yeah…well…that was before…" Sheldon said quietly, as he hunched over his food-tray, his frown deepening.

"Before what?" asked Quinton. "Did something happen?"

" _No!"_ Sheldon barked with a sudden vehemence that made them all jump. "Nothing happened! I mean…" As he looked around at the stunned faces, he hastened to add, "I mean, if you guys wanna ask her, go ahead, but don't be surprised if she says 'no.'"

Quinton stared at his friend, now regretting having made the suggestion in the first place. It seemed like such a simple, utterly innocuous idea, but somehow, it had completely backfired, putting a damper on the entire conversation. _Wow, looks like I really stepped on a corn here!_ He thought.

The rest of the boys also stared at Sheldon for another moment or two, then each exchanged quick, puzzled glances at one another.

"Well…if you say so," Gordo finally said, speaking aloud what the others were thinking. "Still…I think we should at least ask her… No harm in at least asking, right? If she says 'no,' she says 'no.' No big. It's just a friendly game, after all."

"Well, do whatever you want," Sheldon muttered gloomily. "Doesn't matter to me one way or the other. I won't be there anyway. I'm grounded, remember?"

An unnatural silence fell upon the small group as they continued their meal, broken only by the sound of Gerard suddenly speaking up.

"Say, are you gonna eat that dinner roll?" he asked, pointing to Sheldon's tray.

Without a word, Sheldon shoved the plate with the roll on it over to his rotund friend, who greedily pounced on it like a starving jungle cat and proceeded to ravenously devour it in microseconds. The rest of the boys continued their meal in utter silence.

* * *

Lunchtime ended, and the students trickled out of the cafeteria and back into the hallways, heading to their afternoon classes. Sheldon stopped by his locker briefly, opened it long enough to pull some textbooks out for the afternoon, closed it and just as he stepped away from it, he spotted Bernice Topflemeier in the distance down the hall.

She was not a girl whom most of the boys of Tremorton High would consider beautiful, or even remotely attractive. She was short, heavyset, wore thick glasses, had a head full of thick, unruly red hair and a face full of blotchy red freckles. However, what she lacked in physical attractiveness, she more than made up for in other ways. She was highly-intelligent, deeply sensitive, and naturally kind and compassionate by nature, and Sheldon was now beginning to appreciate the true value of these qualities.

As soon as he spotted her, he winced as he recalled his shabby treatment of her some weeks earlier, and he knew that he just had to apologize to her, without delay. He doubted she would ever accept his apology or forgive him…but he knew he had to at least make the attempt.

He gulped and steeled his nerves as he called out to her, "Hey, Bernice!"

She stopped and turned to see who had called her by name, and saw Sheldon trotting over to her. She eyed him narrowly, even suspiciously, as he approached. As he drew near, she quietly uttered the single word, "Sheldon," with a simple, curt little nod of acknowledgment; nothing more.

He smiled amiably, fully expecting her reaction to be it was. He knew exactly where he had to begin. "Hi, Bernice," he said, meekly. "Um…listen, I want you to know I'm really, really sorry for the way I acted a few weeks ago; the way I dumped you so suddenly and everything, without even a word. I was a total jerk, and I'm really, really sorry."

Bernice continued to regard him with wary suspicion. "Oh…that..." She said offhandedly, as though it were a matter of no importance to her. "It was nothing. Forget it. Don't worry about it." She started to turn away.

"No, no," Sheldon said hurriedly, recapturing her attention. "I was way outta line, the way I treated you, and I'm real sorry about it. Especially after you'd been so good to me, and at a time when I really needed a friend," He shrugged, and half-raised his hands in contrition. "…and I—I want to apologize."

She studied him in silence for another moment or two, as though measuring the sincerity of his apology. "Well…" she said softly. "I _was_ pretty hurt."

"I know, I know," Sheldon winced, recalling his behavior. "And I _am_ sorry. _Believe_ me."

"'Cuz I was starting to really like you, you know…" she said.

"I know, I know…" Sheldon repeated, his eyes shut painfully tight.

She continued to eye him narrowly, as though sizing him up. As hurt as she'd been by his sudden, abrupt rejection of her that day, she found that she really couldn't stay _too_ angry at him. She just couldn't help herself; he was just so freaking, adorkably _cute!_

Another long moment passed before she spoke. "Well…all right," she said with a simple nod as a demure little smile crept across her freckled face. "I accept your apology."

Immediately, Sheldon began to relax. He opened his eyes and looked at her. Gradually, his face softened into a relieved smile.

An awkward moment followed then, as they each shifted their gaze nervously about, each trying desperately to think of something to say next.

"Um…maybe…maybe we could…sit and have lunch together sometime…? Or…something…?" Sheldon suggested, timidly.

"Yeah…yeah, maybe we could," Bernice replied, gradually warming up to his suggestion. Even though a part of her was still smarting inside, she was still willing to give him another chance. "That is…if you're sure you're not too busy chasing after…after…" she found that she couldn't even utter the name.

"Oh, you mean Jenny?" Sheldon said, then shook his head. "No…no…I think that's pretty much over and done with now. It was always a lost cause right from the beginning, I hate to say… I don't think it ever had a chance of going anywhere, really…" He paused. "I mean, we're still friends and everything—supposedly, anyway—but…well, I don't think it's ever gonna be anything more than that…" He wanted to say more, but suddenly realized that he just couldn't. And it would do no good and serve no purpose anyway.

"That's too bad," Bernice said, trying to sound sympathetic, though not too convincingly. "But…on the other hand…" She hesitated.

"On the other hand… _what?"_ Sheldon prompted.

"Well…I didn't want to say anything," she paused and lowered her voice. "But you know…I always thought you were way too good for her anyway, to tell you the truth."

Sheldon blinked and his mouth dropped open in surprise. "Really!" he said, utterly stunned.

Bernice nodded. "Really. After all, you're smart and sweet and sensitive and kind and…and just… You're _way_ too good for her, that's all." The words came tumbling out of her mouth almost before she knew she'd uttered them, and in moments, her face began to turn a shade of bright red, almost as vivid as her hair. "And if _she's_ too stupid to see those qualities in you," she went on, putting a particularly chilly emphasis on the feminine pronoun. "Well then…it's _her_ loss."

"Wow…" Sheldon half-whispered. "I had no idea you felt that way…" He couldn't believe it; he couldn't believe that _anyone_ could possibly think of him as being 'too good' for _any_ girl. As soon as he'd recovered from the initial shock, he began to realize that his self-esteem had bumped up several notches, and that his posture had also begun to improve. He now stood up just a bit straighter, held his head a bit higher, his formerly hunched stoop now diminishing with each passing second.

"Well…ah…er…um…thanks…" he stammered, momentarily flustered. "That's—that's very kind of you to say that."

"It's the truth," she said with a smile. "I mean every word."

He blushed and found himself momentarily speechless. When he managed to find his voice again, he struggled to adopt what he imagined was a more objective and 'philosophical' tone. "Well, er, um…at—at any rate…" he began, then nervously cleared his throat. "As for Jenny, well…it's…it's all the past now anyway, me and her. And…well, life goes on."

"That is true," Bernice said as her smile continued to grow. "That is so very true…"

Sheldon smiled broadly in return; a _genuine, from-the-heart_ smile, his first in many, many weeks. For the first time in a long time, he began to feel truly relaxed _,_ at ease, and contented, the last vestiges of anxiety and sadness now gone at last. He felt… _happy._

Yes, that was it, he suddenly realized with a start. He felt _happy._ It had been so long since he'd experienced the emotion, that he'd almost forgotten what it felt like; it almost felt alien to him now.

He also realized a few things that he never had before. That even if Bernice wasn't anything like what he'd once thought he was looking for in a girl—she was neither strong nor 'heroic,' like Jenny was, nor could she be called 'beautiful' in any external, physical sense of the word—she _was_ nevertheless a girl with a good and kind heart, and a compassionate nature, and Sheldon now realized just how important and valuable these qualities really were to him.

And even more importantly, he now realized that Bernice could apparently see qualities in him that others could not, and this fact alone had done wonders for his self-esteem. He'd never experienced the feeling before, of seeing himself reflected so positively in a girl's eyes, and he discovered that he _liked_ the feeling. For one of the precious few times in his young life, Sheldon actually began to feel _good_ about himself for a change.

He'd always wished that Jenny would be the one to look at him in that special way; to see his better qualities and to look upon him as someone of exceptional value and worth, but, he sadly reflected, she never did…and she never would, he now knew…

 _Well…_ he quickly reminded himself. _It doesn't matter. Jenny is in the past…there's no point in dwelling on her now…_

So even if Bernice wasn't strictly-speaking 'girlfriend material'—at least, not yet—or even had the potential of becoming a girlfriend—she was still a girl with a good heart whom Sheldon felt he could trust and upon whom he could rely; a girl he could get along with and regard as a _friend,_ a _genuine_ friend. And that, he now realized, was the most important thing of all.

* * *

End Chapter 2


	3. First Time-Chapter 3

**A First Time For Everything**

A MLAATR-Inspired Fanfic

By Shvique

 _Author's Note: Sorry for the long delay in posting this chapter, dear readers, but there's been a lot of things going on in my personal life this past year, which has seriously cut into my creative-writing time. Nothing serious or life-altering or anything like that; just extremely inconvenient. Nevertheless, I_ _do_ _intend to finish this story; I just can't say when or how frequent the updates will be. But I shall always strive to do my best with it, so please bear with me. And as always, thanks for reading._

 _-Shvique_

* * *

 **Chapter 3—Encounters**

Sheldon sat upright in the seat of his electric motor-scooter, just as proudly as a brave and noble king astride a mighty stallion, as he rode through the streets of Tremorton to school. He held his head high, with a broad smile upon his face. His mood this morning was bright and upbeat; energetic, and full of enthusiasm as his head teemed with exciting new ideas and plans for the future.

Life was good for Sheldon for a change. For the first time since he could remember, things finally seemed to be going his way and he was happy; _truly_ happy. The days of his grounding were passing quickly and uneventfully, and it wouldn't be long before he'd be through with it, and free to resume his usual after-school activities. Even the extra homework, which had been assigned to make up for his partial absence one afternoon, had gone quickly and easily, completed in just a fraction of the time it normally would have taken any other student.

Even his mother's mood seemed to have improved considerably in recent days, no doubt aided to a large degree by the favorable reports she'd received from Mr. Bustoff and the other teachers, regarding his overall scholastic performance. Perhaps, Sheldon thought, after a few more days had passed, and his punishment was over, _then_ maybe he could raise the subject of transferring to another school with her. It seemed like a good idea. There was still plenty of time—after all, Poly Tech certainly wasn't going anywhere. So he could afford to wait for a few more days at least…

Being grounded was certainly no picnic for Sheldon—being effectively under house-arrest after school was no fun for _any_ teenager, after all. But it was easier for some teens to deal with than others, and for Sheldon, it wasn't _too_ bad. For one thing, it had given him plenty of time to catch up on his reading, not only of his school textbooks, but also his recreational reading as well. He had a huge collection of science fiction novels, comics, graphic novels, and back-issues of _Teen Tech Geek_ magazine to keep his mind occupied, and in the past few days alone, he'd already read through a good number of them. And from reading _Teen Tech Geek,_ he'd learned so much and had gotten so many new ideas and fresh inspiration for future projects, that he couldn't wait for his punishment to be over, so that he could begin work on them.

 _Oooo, I can't wait to get started on that one new idea I had!_ He thought, with a growing, eager smile on his face. _The solar-powered unicycle! That would be so cool! And so easy to do, I bet! And I'd be the only kid in the neighborhood to have one, that's for sure! Or that other idea I had, for a hydrogen-fueled internal-combustion engine! Just add water and it'll run like forever! That one oughta be a cinch! An engine that runs on water? How hard could it be? Or maybe…maybe I could even try again to build a working re-creation of a Keely Motor! Sure, I tried it lots of times before without success, but…just 'cuz I failed the first 1,798 times doesn't mean I'll fail_ _this_ _time! Sooner or later, I'm_ _bound_ _to get it right! Or…or that other cool idea I had! To convert a riding lawnmower into a hovercraft! Oooh, now_ _that_ _one's got definite possibilities! And if I could actually build it and make it work, it'd be way better than this poky ol' motor-scooter!_ The smile on his face widened and he felt a tingle of excitement, as he imagined the thrill of zooming around the neighborhood in an actual, working homemade hovercraft, and all the admiring looks he'd receive from his neighbors, all obviously impressed with his amazing technical expertise.

He approached a red light and slowed the scooter to a halt. As he waited for the light to change, he glanced down and checked the power-gauge for the battery. The needle had now dropped to an alarming level. _Hmmm…that's not good,_ he thought. _This battery's definitely not going to last much longer... Gonna have to do something about that, before I start on anything else… Probably end up having to buy a new one soon… I already made some modifications to this scooter to increase its efficiency, but it's still drawing an awful lot of power… Maybe I can do some more modifications…maybe rework the governor-circuitry or something… Maybe squeeze a few more miles out of it that way… Yeah…that might work… Or maybe…maybe I can even design and build a new battery myself!_ His thoughts now raced with fresh inspiration. _I bet I can! After all, new materials and alloys and processes are being developed all the time…maybe I can use some of them to design and build a better battery! I'll just have to do some research online later on and see what I can find… If I try enough combinations of materials, alloys and chemicals, I'm bound to come up with something! Maybe something that'll not only hold a charge longer than the old battery, but maybe even one that'll take less time to recharge, too! Or maybe…maybe I could even design a whole new motor! Maybe even one that runs on_ _static_ _electricity! That way, I wouldn't even_ _need_ _a battery! I could just run it on atmospheric discharge alone! Free energy! Wouldn't_ _that_ _be something!_

Just within the few minutes in which these thoughts crossed Sheldon's mind, he'd already begun forming some rough preliminary plans in his head for them. Each one would be challenging in itself, of course, but…still, he was sure that, given enough time, he would solve all the technical problems involved with each one.

The light turned green and he twisted the throttle. The scooter sluggishly accelerated, gradually picking up speed as it propelled down the street.

 _Even with a battery that's about to conk out,_ Sheldon thought, _This scooter's still a big time-saver. I wonder why I quit riding it in the first place?_

Then he remembered. He'd stopped riding it in order to allow himself some extra time and opportunity to occasionally catch a glimpse of—and even sometimes meet up with and walk with—Jenny.

 _Jenny…_ he thought wistfully for a brief moment…

But _only_ for a moment.

 _No matter,_ he thought with a sigh. _That's all over with now…_

Now that he no longer felt the need to cross paths with Jenny every day, there was no longer a reason not to ride the scooter. And riding it definitely had some advantages after all. For one thing, the time it saved allowed him the relative luxury of leaving the house a few minutes later in the morning, and arriving home a few minutes earlier as well; time that would certainly prove useful, once he'd be able to resume working on his various projects…

As he rode along, he pondered other ideas too, one of which was a particularly-tantalizing one that had been on his mind for some time now. It was inspired by a chance remark he'd made to Jenny during their long, turbulent, emotionally-draining discussion one evening: The concept of a robot built specifically for _kindness._

 _I wonder…_ he'd thought countless times in the days since. _Is that even possible? To build a robot and program it for kindness…? Hmm…I wonder… Well…I suppose in theory it might be possible…maybe… And I suppose one way I could find out for sure is to try and build one myself and see! If I did, I wouldn't build it to try to do super-heroics like Jenny or anything like that… And I wouldn't build it to perform simple household chores, either. Any plain old, off-the-shelf household service-robot could do that. But just…program it to be friendly…and kind to people... That's all… Nothing else…_

 _Could that_ _really_ _be done?_ He wondered.

The idea—even the _possibility_ of it—definitely intrigued him. He knew that an idea so seemingly-simple in concept would also be so very difficult to actually accomplish in reality _._ Not so much the actual building of a robot—that was easy; any ordinary, everyday, run-of-the-mill, teen-genius science geek could do that. But to program it for something so ineffable, so very elusive, subtle, complex and uniquely _human_ a quality as _kindness…_ now _that_ was something else again.

 _Could_ _such a thing as kindness actually be re-created in cybernetics?_ He wondered. _It's hard enough to find even in human beings, that's for sure!_ he thought.

But if such a thing were possible, even theoretically, it would certainly present an enormous challenge to even the most gifted and accomplished of robotics and AI experts.

And Sheldon always did like a challenge…

…and this would _definitely_ be a challenge worthy of his talents!

 _Besides,_ he thought with a resigned shrug. _I suppose I really should get started on building a robot of my own anyway…_ _It's way past time that I did… After all, Dr. Wakeman was way younger than me when she built_ _her_ _first robot!_

He sighed, suddenly feeling like such a lazy slacker. After all, here he was, seventeen years old already, and he still hadn't even built his first robot yet! What kind of teen science prodigy was he, anyway?

Yet in spite of the daunting challenges involved, his mind nevertheless began racing at a feverish pace, as he imagined the myriad approaches he could take in designing such a robot, and in devising the necessary behavior-pattern programming-codes it would require…

 _One thing's for sure,_ he thought. _This'll be nothing like Silver Shell. Silver Shell's really nothing but a big empty powered suit, after all. This would be something totally different, something much smaller, for one thing; a completely autonomous little robot with an independent mind of its own…something that can think and act and operate independently, and react emotionally, just like a person…something that can interact with other people and deal with them, just like a real person…_

 _Kinda…kinda like Jenny…_ he thought with a brief tinge of lingering sadness. _Only_ _my_ _robot will be a lot nicer…friendlier…kinder…!_

Which, he realized, was the whole point, after all.

He sighed. _Ah well,_ he thought. _Maybe after school lets out for the Summer, I can get started on it then. Or maybe next year, after I transfer to Poly Tech… Maybe I could build it for a class project or something…maybe even get extra credit for it!_

But, he quickly reminded himself, before he could begin work on that or any other new project, there was still that _other_ matter which he had yet to make a final decision on once and for all: Namely, _what to do with Silver Shell?_

Although he had vowed in a fit of pique some weeks earlier to dismantle _Silver Shell,_ he'd since come to have second thoughts about the matter. Now that he'd had time to cool off, reconsider and think it over calmly, he now felt that perhaps he'd been wrong and much too hasty in making that decision _._ As he thought about it now, he came to realize that perhaps _Silver Shell_ might still have an important and valuable role to play in the world after all. _And_ in Sheldon's own personal life as well.

For just as he'd come to reconsider and re-evaluate so many of his other opinions and conclusions, he now realized that he'd also been wrong to dismiss the value of heroes and heroism in the world. Heroes _were_ important, he now realized, and so were all the values and ideals for which they stood. Just as he'd always believed in his heart that they did. Just because Jenny had failed to live up to those ideals herself, that didn't mean that the ideals themselves had no meaning or value.

After all, Sheldon remembered all too vividly the difficult years he'd endured while growing up, being at the mercy of various bullies, both in school and out, how often he'd felt powerless when confronted with them, and wished there had been someone there to protect and defend him. No doubt there were other people throughout the world who also felt the same way. People who needed protection when their lives were threatened or in danger, or whose lives needed saving in the event of disasters. And many, many other situations. Heroes clearly _were_ needed in such cases, and played a vitally-important and necessary role in the world. There was no longer any doubt in Sheldon's mind about that now.

And now, for the first time, he began to seriously consider that, perhaps…just perhaps…it was a role which _he himself_ might be able to play, as _Silver Shell._

 _He_ could be a hero; a real, genuine superhero, capable of fighting crime, saving lives, protecting people from dangers and threats of all sorts. Things which he could never do as himself, as plain old Sheldon Lee…but which he _could_ do as _Silver Shell!_

The very implication of it shook him to the core. He suddenly realized that he no longer needed Jenny to be a hero to him. _He_ could be a hero _himself!_ He could be his _own_ hero!

Of course! It all seemed so plainly obvious to him now, that he wondered why he had never seen it before. Perhaps, dimly, he _had_ been aware of it; on some deep, subconscious level in the back of his mind, perhaps he always knew that this would one day be his ultimate destiny in life, his true purpose in creating _Silver Shell._ If he had never seen it before, well, perhaps it was because he was so blinded by his unrequited love for Jenny, that he couldn't see what was so clearly obvious to him now.

But…that didn't matter; Jenny was now out of the picture, and so without her to distract him, he could see matters much more clearly now. And, similarly, it didn't matter that _Silver Shell_ had proven to be mostly useless as a tool to win Jenny over, either. And it didn't matter that _Shell_ lacked the advanced powers, capabilities and weaponry that Jenny had, either. No, he would use whatever powers he _did_ possess, to be the best possible superhero that he could be. That was what counted.

So nothing else mattered to him then. All that mattered was that _Silver Shell_ now had a much higher, more noble purpose to serve than he ever had before: to be a _hero,_ a real, genuine and legitimate _hero,_ and for the best and most legitimate of all possible reasons: because the world _needed_ such heroes. And so _he_ would be there to lend a helping hand, whenever and wherever he could, wherever he was needed, in whatever small capacity he could. _He,_ by himself,could make a difference in people's lives.

He would do so anonymously, of course; the public would only see and know him as _Silver Shell,_ never realizing that it was really Sheldon performing these acts. But that was perfectly all right with him; he didn't mind. After all, he wasn't doing this simply to boost his own ego—although his battered ego could certain use it. No, his sole goal and purpose were much higher, more elevated than that. And, so many of the comic-book superheroes he'd read over the years had a secret identity or alter-ego that they kept hidden from the public, too. It pretty much went with the territory, and was probably even necessary to some extent. And it no doubt had some advantages too, now that he thought about it. For one thing, it would allow him the necessary privacy to continue working on his inventions and researches safely out of the public eye.

And as for as those inventions, he even began to formulate new plans for those as well. _Maybe I could_ _re-create and rework some of the gadgets and gizmos that I was gonna give to Jenny, but use them with_ _Silver Shell_ _instead!_ he thought. Even though he'd deleted the files for them weeks ago, he _might_ be able to reconstruct some of them from memory. And since Jenny never wanted or appreciated them, well then, perhaps _Silver Shell_ could use them instead. That net-capture device, for example. He'd once offered it to Jenny as a gift, but…as with everything else he'd offered her, she'd had neither use nor interest in it. But it could easily be re-worked and modified just a little bit to be a _perfect_ tool for _Silver Shell_ to use.

 _But to be a super-hero!_ His thoughts returned to his new life's goal with renewed excitement and anticipation. _To actually do it! For real!_

The thought warmed his heart, as he imagined himself zooming through the sky as _Silver Shell_ , performing acts of super-heroics all over town and all over the world, just like a character straight out of a comic-book. _Super-scientist by day…robotic superhero by night!_ He thought with a beaming smile borne of growing pride and enthusiasm. _Dr. Sheldon Lee…the_ _Silver Shell_ _!_

Just then, he was jarred from his reverie and back into the real world by the suddenly realization that he was approaching the parking-lot of Tremorton High. He eased off the throttle, reducing speed, and pulled into the driveway of the bike-parking section. He squeezed the brake-handles and came to a full stop, then walked the scooter the last few feet to the bike-rack. As he kicked down the kickstand, he checked the power-gauge for the battery. Little more than a half-charge remained. _Psh! Even worse than yesterday!_ He thought with a disappointed sigh. _That's barely enough to get home on!_ _Well…maybe it'll last for a_ _few_ _more days…'til I can get a new one, at least …or make one…or whatever…_

He unbuckled his helmet and removed it, then knelt down and locked the scooter to the bike-rack. Once the lock was secured, he turned and bounded up the steps of the main entrance. He stepped inside, rounded a corner and strode down the main hall until he reached his locker. He opened it, placed his helmet and backpack inside and after a moment's thought, decided to take off his hoodie and placed it inside as well, hanging on the hook. It was a surprisingly warm morning already, especially indoors, a likely indication of a hot Summer to come. He took out his binder, notebook and some textbooks, then shut the locker and spun the dial. He then turned and headed off to his first morning's class.

Now that he was back in everyday, mundane surroundings, other, more immediate plans came to his mind then, on subjects which had nothing to do with ingenious new inventions or bold dreams of super-heroics. The foremost plan in his mind at the moment involved approaching Bernice and asking her out on a date. He'd been thinking about it off and on for a few days now, hemming and hawing about it, before finally deciding that this time, he _would_ do it, just bite the bullet and ask her out, and not talk himself out of it. Just as soon as he was through being grounded and free to leave the house again, of course; _then_ he would ask her—and with a few extra dollars in his wallet from a saved-up allowance as well.

 _Hmmm…I wonder if she's into_ _Trek Wars_ _…?_ He thought. _She might be… And if she is, then maybe we can go see the new upcoming movie in the series together! It's only a few more weeks 'til it's released… Maybe we could do that… I bet she'd like it…!_

He sighed, wishing he could ask her out _now,_ while the idea was still fresh in his mind and he felt motivated. But…no, he decided; he would wait. Wait until his punishment at home was over and he was in the clear; _then_ he would ask her.

A smile of deep contentment formed upon his face and continued to grow. Both his present and future prospects seemed promising, and he took renewed encouragement from them. _All things considered,_ he thought, _life is good right now, and this day's going to be just great! I_ _know_ _it is!_

* * *

 _This day stinks, and it's barely even started yet!_ Jenny fumed in silent, seething frustration, as she hurriedly tried to clean and polish herself in the bathroom. She had seriously overslept this morning, and was now running seriously, major-league late. Not that she'd had much sleep the night before—as it was, she'd barely even gotten a four-hour recharge before the dumb, stupid alarm-clock went off…

The night before had been one long headache for Jenny anyway. Just as she was getting ready for bed, an emergency call came through that she was needed downtown immediately _,_ to thwart a robbery of the Dortmunder First National Bank. With a sigh borne of equal parts exhaustion and resignation, she charged downstairs and outdoors in seconds, blasting off and heading towards the center of town. Duty called, whether she was tired or not…

It wasn't the first bank-robbery that she'd ever dealt with, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. And naturally, it couldn't have been just _any_ simple little rinky-dink, run-of-the-mill _ordinary_ bank-robbery, by simple, ordinary, everyday, run-of-the-mill bank-robbers, either. No, naturally, _this_ robbery had to be something _different,_ something _stupid,_ something _crazy,_ just like everything else she had to deal with in this nutty little town!

This robbery turned out to have been planned and executed by none other than Vladimir, Dr. Wakeman's former lab-rat, and his gang of fellow lab-rats. Jenny had, of course, dealt with him numerous times in the past, and by now, she was getting just a little sick and tired of him and his silly, pointless capers. _Doesn't this guy ever give up?_ she wondered as soon as she'd realized that it was he behind the robbery.

Still, she _did_ have to give him points for originality this time. _This_ time, Vladimir had come up with a method of robbing a bank that was…different, to say the least. Different…unique…novel…and altogether _crazy!_ Even crazier than the time he'd tried to rob a million dollars' worth of nickels from the U.S. Mint. For this time, Vladimir and his gang had decided to rob a bank the hard way: _by hauling it away…_

Somehow, by some extraordinary and mysterious engineering means that Jenny could only guess at, Vladimir and his team had managed to raise the entire bank-building on hydraulic jacks, and then load it onto a heavy-duty 18-wheel trailer-rig, after which they proceeded to haul it down the streets of Tremorton at high speed with a diesel-truck. The plan was daring and audacious, Jenny certainly had to give it that, but subtle, it wasn't.

The building had been moved only a couple of miles from its original location by the time Jenny arrived, so spotting it from the air was a simple matter, made even easier by the fact that Vladimir had decided, for whatever bizarre reason, to "camouflage" the bank by painting it…hot pink.

So halting the crime in-progress, apprehending the criminal rats, and returning them all to custody was a cinch for Jenny and took only a few minutes. That was the easy part. Picking up the bank-building and moving it back to its original location…and trying to fit it _exactly_ where it belonged, was the tricky part, as well as the most time-consuming.

Hour after hour, Jenny labored with the building, trying to position it in _exactly_ the right place to satisfy the persnickety bank-manager (who measured its placement with a micrometer.) Repeatedly, she'd had to adjust and re-adjust its position by the most infinitesimal of micro-millimeters, only to have the manager take a measurement and raise an objection. "No, no, _no!"_ he would exclaim. "It must be rotated _exactly_ 2.73 mm more to the South Southwest! Try again!" To which Jenny invariably grumbled a reply, in increasingly strained tones: "Just so you know…this thing's _heavy…!_ I'm just saying…!"

As a result, Jenny didn't finish the job and return home until well after midnight, and so weary and exhausted that she couldn't even remember exactly how she'd managed to get so scratched and scuffed on such a minor skirmish… Moreover, she'd been too tired at that point to even care…

 _But at least there's one consolation about it, though…!_ she thought with a weary smile. _At least that stupid mega-improbability thing that Mom kept going on about must be over and done with and out of the way now, so I won't have to worry about it anymore!_

With that final, reassuring thought and a wide yawn, she groggily trudged her way upstairs to her bedroom, her eyes half-closed in weariness. There she flopped into bed and immediately dropped into a deep, exhausted sleep/recharge mode for what remained of the night…

And so, after such a hectic, exhausting night, followed by an all-too-brief night's sleep, Jenny knew, from the moment the alarm-clock first sounded in the morning, that it was _not_ going to be a fun day ahead of her…

"XJ-9!" Dr. Wakeman called loudly from downstairs. "XJ-9! Hurry _up_ or you'll be late! _XJ-9!"_

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Jenny cried, as she charged out of the bathroom, still wiping herself with a hand-towel. "Cripes, Mom, chill! I'm not even dry yet! I barely had time to wash up this morning as it is!"

She took a sharp turn into her bedroom to grab her backpack and glanced at the bedside clock. _Cripes!_ She thought in a brief panic. _Look at the time! I'm_ _really_ _running late now!_

" _ **XJ-9!"**_ Dr. Wakeman bellowed from downstairs.

" _I know, Mom, I know! I'm coming!"_ Jenny charged downstairs and reached the landing in microseconds. "Cripes, Mom, why didn't you wake me _sooner?!"_ she cried.

"I've been _trying_ to do just that for the last twenty minutes!" Dr. Wakeman glared at her robotic daughter with her arms folded.

"Ohhhhh, I'm gonna be _so_ late now, and Mr. Razinski is _so_ gonna bust me!"

"Did you have breakfast?"

" _No!_ I didn't have time! I didn't even get a full night's recharge last night!"

"Well, you'd better top off before you leave, or else you're liable to—" Dr. Wakeman said, holding out a bottle of high-grade jet-fuel.

"All right, Mom; all right!" Jenny said, cutting off her creator mid-sentence. She grabbed the bottle, popped the cap off, and downed the contents in several quick swallows without even breaking her stride.

As she finished the last of the fuel however, she froze in her tracks as she caught a fresh view of herself and her banged-up appearance from the night before. "Oh, _Mom!"_ she wailed, wheeling about to face her creator. _"Look_ at me! Just _look_ at me! Look at all those scuffs and scratches! How can I go to school looking like this? Cripes, I'm a _mess!_ I'll _never_ hear the end of it from the other girls!"

"Oh, come, come, XJ-9. It's not as bad as all that. It's only a few little scuff marks, that's all. You can barely even see them. I can easily take care of them once you get home. A little dab of fresh paint here and there, a little waxing, some light polishing and buffing, and you'll look as good as new."

"Well, what about that _dent?"_

"Oh, that's just a tiny little ding—"

" _Little?!"_ Jenny wailed. "You call that _'little'?!_ Cripes, Mom, _look_ at it! It's as big as the Grand Canyon!"

"Oh, XJ-9, don't exaggerate! I can easily pop that out and smooth it over later, too. Just a few light little taps with a ball peen hammer and it will be just fine."

"Oh, _mom!"_ Jenny wailed. It was _hopeless!_ She was a mess, and she knew it. What was worse, there wasn't anything that could be done about it now; there simply wasn't time.

Time that was now running even shorter, she noted, as she glanced up at the clock on the kitchen wall. She would _really_ have to hustle if she was going to make it to school on time now. If she was late one more day, she just knew that Mr. Razinski would _really_ lower the boom on her this time…

With a final, frustrated sigh, she turned and charged out the front-door. Once outside, she tossed the empty bottle into the recycle-bin and blasted off, soaring high into the sky. "'Bye, Mom!" she called out from above.

"Good bye, XJ-9," Dr. Wakeman called back in reply with a wave. "Be a good girl now."

As Jenny zoomed over the neighborhood, she scanned the sidewalks below her, looking for her friends. To her disappointment but not her surprise, there was no sign of either Brad _or_ Tuck anywhere along the way. No doubt they'd gotten tired of waiting for her and had already left for school without her.

Which, needless to say, did little to improve her mood. Yet, it seemed about par for the course for her this morning…

She checked the time on her internal clock and decided to kick it up a notch. She fired up her afterburners and rocketed the last few remaining blocks to school in mere seconds, arriving at the front doors in record time. As she stepped inside, she checked her internal clock again, comparing it with the clock on the wall and noted that she had a good seven minutes to spare until first bell was due to ring. She smiled with satisfaction. _Made it!_ She thought in relief. _Maybe this day's gonna turn out all right after all!_

With that, she dashed quickly down the entry-corridor _("No running in the hallway!"_ called out the omnipresent, smarmy hall-monitor who'd spotted her, further annoying her.) No longer running now, but still maintaining a fast pace, she turned a sharp corner and into the main hallway. She was several yards away from her locker when she suddenly caught sight of a familiar figure in the distance, heading in her direction.

It was Sheldon.

All at once, Jenny's spirits lifted, her foul mood of only a few moments ago was now utterly forgotten, and she broke into a huge smile.

She approached him, and as she came closer, she immediately noticed something different about him this morning, obvious even from this distance. It was expressed in his general bearing, manner and demeanor. It was reflected in his posture and body-language, in his energetic stride, and above all, in the beaming, self-satisfied smile upon his face. In short, he _finally_ seemed to be quite back to his old, happy, cheerful self, which came as a welcome relief, after so many weeks of seeing him in his uncharacteristically sour and sulky disposition.

 _At last!_ she thought. _He finally seems to be in a good mood again!_ _Now_ _maybe he'll feel like talking to me again!_

And as she drew closer to him, Jenny noticed something _else_ that was different about him as well, something she'd rarely seen in him before. His entire manner seemed to exude _self-confidence,_ which became even more obvious the closer he got. He held his head high, proudly, defiant and unafraid, as though he were ready to take on the world, come what may. Jenny couldn't imagine what could be the cause for this change in Sheldon, but whatever it was, she _liked_ it. It was certainly a vast improvement over his attitude and manner of the past, which was often so pitiful, pathetic and clingy that it frequently became unbearable.

But now, with this obvious improvement in his mood, coupled with his new self-confidence, Jenny had good reason to hope that today, he might be willing to _talk,_ to say _something_ to her— _anything—_ that would get a conversation going, and hopefully bring them back to being on friendly terms again. She even went so far as to hope that, as he so often had in the past, he would somehow say just the right thing to her to cheer her up and lift her spirits.

 _Just like he always used to…!_ She thought hopefully.

"Hey, Sheldon!" she called out cheerily to him with a wave and a smile as soon as he got within earshot.

Sheldon's head snapped up instantly at the call of his name, and he immediately froze in his tracks, his entire body stiffened. And the moment his eyes met hers, his entire demeanor also changed in an instant. His smile immediately vanished, his jaw clenched and the muscles of his neck and shoulders tightened. His overall reaction, in short, was exactly the same as any other student's would have been if they had just been caught doing something wrong by a teacher.

"Oh…um, hi…Jenny…" he replied quietly, guardedly, his eyes darting nervously away from her.

The moment Jenny saw his reaction, her initial enthusiasm at seeing him immediately plunged.

 _Oh, come on now!_ She thought in a momentary pique. _Don't look at me like that, like I was gonna…!_ She shuddered and couldn't even finish the thought. _Cripes, Sheldon, it's_ _me_ _! Jenny! Am I really so terrible? What am I, some kind of monster or something?_

But even though his abrupt change in manner stung, Jenny decided to let it pass without comment or response. Instead, she forced herself to maintain her best, most cheerful smile. It wasn't easy, but she managed it.

"So…what'cha been doing?" she asked amiably. "Keeping busy?"

"Something like that," he replied evenly, as he resumed his pace, passed her by and continued on his way, barely making eye-contact with her.

Jenny blinked in surprise. "Wait, wait," she said, reaching out a hand as if to stop him. "What's your rush? Can't you stay and talk awhile?"

"Sorry, I…can't," he said, glancing quickly over his shoulder at her as he kept walking. "I…gotta get to class." He picked up his pace by another notch. "I still have some…homework and stuff to turn in." he added hastily.

"Oh, come on! We still have a few minutes left 'til the bell rings!" She quickly trotted over to walk beside him.

"I know, I know, but I…well, I still have a lot of material to go over with my home-room teacher, and…I gotta get it all straightened out by the end of the week." His pace now increased to a near-jog.

"Aw, c'mon! Just for a few minutes…" Jenny also increased her pace to remain at his side. "A few minutes won't hurt anything!"

Finally, with a resigned sigh, Sheldon slowed and came to a halt. He turned to face her. His expression was difficult to read, but he seemed vaguely…impatient, it seemed _;_ almost annoyed, in fact.

"All right," he said with a faintly strained tone. "What…" he hesitated. "What's…on your mind? Is there something you…wanted?" His body remained tense, as though anticipating a response he wouldn't like.

Jenny blinked and suddenly found herself at a loss for words. Now that she finally had his attention, she discovered that she couldn't think of a single thing to _say._

"Well, no, no, I just…" she paused. "I just…you know…wanted to…talk a little bit, that's all. We haven't had much chance to really talk very much lately, so…" She hesitated for a moment, then forged ahead. "So I…I thought…you know…we have some catching-up to do…" She smiled weakly as she trailed off, hoping he might take the hint and pick up the conversation from there.

But Sheldon merely stared at her, blankly, as though he hadn't the slightest idea of what she was talking about.

She tried again. "Um…so…how have you been?" She asked, embarrassed at her feeble choice of words in her all-too-awkward attempt to begin a conversation.

"Fine…fine…" he replied, as he continued to glance nervously from side to side and shift his weight uneasily from foot to foot. After the one word, uttered twice in succession however, he again fell silent, his manner remaining uncomfortably aloof and distant.

"Um…got any cool new inventions or other gadgets you're working on? Anything special?" She continued with a forced smile and maintained an upbeat tone, hoping to engage his enthusiasm for a subject she knew from the past that he'd always loved to talk about. "I remember some of those ideas you were you telling me about a few weeks ago, that you showed me the schematics for, and they looked really impressive! Making any progress on those? Finish any of them yet?"

He frowned at her for a moment, utterly puzzled. _What the heck's she talking about?_ he wondered. Then he realized. _Oh, I bet I know what she means! She must be talking about those stupid gifts I was gonna make for her! That's gotta be it!_

"Oh! Those…um…no, no…" he replied with a brief shake of his head and a faint frown. "I…um…well, I…scrapped most of those, actually."

"You _what?"_ Instantly, Jenny's smile vanished.

"Yeah. Deleted the files and…everything."

"But…but _why?"_ she asked, utterly aghast.

"Oh, I just…" he shrugged, still not looking at her directly. "I don't know…I'm just…not interested in 'em anymore. I just had to sort of…put 'em behind me…and move on. I can't explain it exactly, but…sometimes I have to do that with old…ideas once in awhile, in order to," He hesitated, then went on. "to move on, make a fresh start and…generate new ideas."

Jenny simply stared at him. She couldn't believe it, not for one picosecond. She knew that those gadgets were most likely intended as gifts for her, but that didn't matter. What troubled her was the fact that she knew how much they meant to Sheldon himself, how much pleasure and satisfaction he derived from dreaming up, designing and building them. She also knew how many hours he'd already devoted to them, and how much joy he took from the completion of each and every one, especially when one actually _worked_ as intended. Even when an invention _didn't_ work, or if it backfired in some way (as was often the case), Sheldon always took it in cheerful stride. "Oh well…at least I learned something new!" he would often say. "I learned _why_ it didn't work, so at least it wasn't wasted! Now I can make the _next_ one even _better!"_ His inventions were such an important part of his life, his mind and his spirit that Jenny knew how much it must have torn him up inside to simply abandon them that way, so cavalierly, as though they meant nothing to him. It was reflected in his tone of voice as he spoke, and in a certain sadness in his eyes. Clearly, and despite his best efforts to conceal it, a part of him obviously ached inside to have cast aside something he loved so dearly, and into which he'd already put so much time, energy and effort.

She shook her head. "Oh Sheldon, how could you?" she asked sadly. "You worked so hard on those. All those ideas you had for all those cool new gadgets and gizmos and everything… They looked so promising, too."

He blinked at her, half in surprise, half in puzzlement, and frowned again, the way he sometimes did when confronted with a particularly difficult mathematical problem. _Since when does she care about my inventions?_ He wondered. _She never did before!_

"Ah well…it doesn't matter," he said with a casual toss of his head, as though the matter were of no consequence to him. "None of them had any practical or commercial value, they served no real purpose, and…well, I just don't need 'em anymore. So…there's no point in spending any more time working on them." He concluded with a shrug.

Jenny continued to stare at him, not believing a single word he said. For even as he gave his perfectly reasonable-sounding explanation, something about it failed to ring true. There seemed to be something more to what he was saying than what he expressed in mere words. His subtly-altered tone, attitude and manner seemed to convey a hidden meaning that she couldn't quite decipher.

"Besides," he went on. "I couldn't work on them now, even if I wanted to. My workshop privileges are suspended while I'm grounded."

"Well…yeah, but…" Jenny countered. "But…you're not gonna be grounded forever, are you?" She tried to sound encouraging, in order to revive his former interest in his abandoned projects. "Couldn't you have…you know…gone back to working on them again, after you're through being grounded?"

He shook his head. "Nahh," he said. "There's no point. Like I said, they no longer have a purpose, I don't need 'em, and…well, they're just not that important to me anymore, that's all. I'm…" he paused, his gaze seeming to penetrate to her very core. "I'm…just not interested anymore." He paused again, then went on. "Besides, I have another—" he stopped abruptly _._ "Some other _priorities_ these days that I want to focus on instead."

' _Priorities?'_ she wondered with a half-frown. _What the heck does he mean by that?_

But before she could respond, the bell rang. "Anyway, I really gotta get going now, so—" he said as he turned on his heel and, with a quick wave of his hand, resumed his way down the hall. "See you," He called out just before he disappeared around a corner and up a flight of stairs, taking the steps two at a time.

Jenny sighed and slowly turned and walked back towards her locker, all the energy that had propelled her stride only moments ago now gone. _Cripes, I only wanted to talk to him for a couple of minutes!_ She thought in a blend of frustration and disappointment. _What the heck is_ _with_ _him these days? Why is he acting like this? He seemed so happy a moment ago, all smiles and everything, and then he takes one look at me & boom! He's back to being Sulky Sam again! What's __with_ _him? Or—or maybe it's_ _me_ _! Is that it?_

She reached her locker, opened it and took out some books, then closed it again. She turned to head toward her first class of the day and happened to glance down at herself, taking a fresh look at the dings, scuff-marks and scratches that had gone untended from the night before. Those few minor imperfections in her normally-gleaming surface seemed even more enormous to her now.

 _Cripes!_ She thought, her eyes widened. _I really_ _am_ _a mess! Look at me! I'm a total disaster-area! A walking junkyard! No wonder he doesn't want to be around me anymore!_ For a brief moment, she felt a strong impulse to envelop herself in a turtle-like shell, a nervous-response enclosure into which she sometimes retreated in times of extreme anxiety, embarrassment or mortification. She only hoped that she could somehow make it through the day—or the morning, at least—without her battered appearance attracting the unwanted attention of too many other students, particularly the detestable Crust Cousins. That was about all she needed at this point: for _those_ two to show up and start making their usual snotty, catty remarks, comments and other assorted put-downs.

Yet despite her anxiety over her appearance, her primary concern still focused on Sheldon and his behavior just now. She couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that his distant, detached manner toward her had nothing to do with how she looked, and that the reasons for it went much deeper than a matter of mere surface details.

Because it had been the same old story all week long, and with each such encounter, Jenny became more hurt, confused and frustrated. Repeatedly, she had reached out and tried to engage Sheldon in friendly conversation, and each time, her efforts were callously rebuffed. She had tried to be patient with him, just as her creator had advised, but after several days of this, and his continued cold indifference to her, her patience was by now beginning to run out.

 _I don't get it, I just don't_ _get_ _it!_ She silently fumed in helpless frustration. As her thoughts fired through her positronic brain at lightning speed, her pace likewise increased as she strode down the hallway, the floor and walls quivering with her every footstep. Now thoroughly consumed by thought and completely oblivious to her surroundings, she stared directly ahead of her, yet paying little attention to what lay directly in her path. _Is he still angry at me or something…? I_ _thought_ _we made up! I_ _thought_ _we made a fresh start and were gonna be friends again and everything! So why doesn't he wanna talk to me? Why doesn't he at least respond? Doesn't he trust me? He acts like he doesn't even like me anymore! He acts like he doesn't even_ _care_ _! Is that it?! Why?! Am I that awful? Cripes, I'm_ _trying_ _, aren't I? I'm_ _trying_ _to be more friendly to him, just like I promised I would! So why doesn't he at least give me a chance? I know Mom said to be patient with him, give him time and all that junk, and I'm trying to do that, but it's just so frustrating! I mean, I don't want him to feel like I'm crowding him or pressuring him or anything like that, 'cuz if I do, then it's liable to backfire on me, and then_ _I'll_ _end up looking like a stalker, and I don't want to do that, 'cuz I know how it feels to be on the receiving-end of that, and I didn't like it when he did it to me, and I don't think he'd like it any more than I did if I did it to him, so if I pressure him too much, then he's liable to get angry at me all over again, and I don't want that, but on the other hand, I don't wanna let too much time go by either, 'cuz I want to show him that he_ _can_ _trust me again, that we_ _can_ _still be friends, and that this time maybe we can even—_

Her rapid-fire thoughts were interrupted when she sharply rounded a corner at high speed, only to slam headlong into the familiar form of Brad, knocking him down, flat onto his bottom.

" _OH!"_ she exclaimed in surprise as she stepped back, then reached down a hand to help him back onto his feet. "Cripes! Sorry, Brad, I'm afraid I wasn't—"

"OH! Heh heh, that's okay, Jen!" he said with a surprised chuckle. "No harm done—except to my pride, that is!" He took her hand and unsteadily regained his feet. "Nothing like slamming headlong into a steel wall first thing in the morning to wake a guy up!" He gave her a broad grin as he brushed himself off.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure, I'm fine," he replied as he brushed off the seat of his trousers, then looked at her. "But what about you?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "Are _you_ okay? You look kinda zoned-out."

"Hm?" she replied as though caught by surprise. "Oh…yeah, I'm…fine... I'm just…a little preoccupied, that's all. Got some things on my mind."

"Oh… Nothing serious, I hope."

"I _hope_ not…" she said in a low voice, as though she were speaking to herself and not to Brad.

"Say, where were you this morning, anyway?" he asked. "Me and Tuck waited outside your house for you, for like forever, but you never showed." He shrugged. "Finally, we left. We just couldn't wait any longer."

"I know, I know…" she replied, nodding. "I overslept this morning. See, I had a late-night call last night, and…" she glanced up at the clock on the wall. _"Ohhhhh,_ it's a long story... I'll tell you about it later. I gotta get going before I get yelled at _too_ badly!" She quickly turned and gave him a quick wave as she dashed down the hall. "See you!" she called out just as she disappeared through a classroom doorway.

* * *

The bell rang, signaling the end of Jenny's second class of the morning, and she immediately packed up her binder and textbooks and trotted out to the hallway without delay. As was so often the case when she'd failed to get a good night's sleep/recharge, she was jittery and on-edge, and constantly felt as though she were on the verge of falling asleep in class. She had, in fact, almost nodded off twice already, catching herself only at the last second before the teachers noticed. She'd better watch that, she told herself, or else she'd get caught and yelled at again. Which was the _last_ thing she needed this morning…

Once she was out in the hallway, she immediately began scanning her surroundings, hoping to find a familiar, friendly face or two, someone with whom she could chat for a few minutes.

However, she had only gone a few paces before the alarm for her videophone sounded with its usual earsplitting volume, causing her to jump and halt in her tracks. From her thoracic cavity there emerged the telecom-screen, displaying the image of her creator's likeness. The other students in the hallway continued to walk past her without even so much as a second glance; by now, they were all so used to the sight that it scarcely attracted their attention anymore.

"Yeah, Mom?" Jenny said, mildly piqued at the unexpected interruption in her morning routine. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry to bother you while you're at school, XJ-9," Dr. Wakeman said. "But this is important. I just want to remind you that I still need a full report from you, about last night's mission."

Jenny sighed. "Yes, yes, Mother, I know. I didn't forget. I just I haven't had a chance to write it yet. I'll do it later."

"I didn't say anything about it last night," Dr. Wakeman went on. "Because it was so late when you got home, and you were so tired, but I still need it, in order to check it and cross-reference it against some data-readings I took last night, all of which I'll need for your upcoming performance-evaluation, and—"

"I know, Mom, I know!" Try as she might, Jenny couldn't entirely conceal the growing irritation in her voice. "I said, I'll get it to you later, all right?"

"When?"

Jenny sighed again, this time with even greater annoyance. "A little later this morning, all right? I've got a study-hall about an hour before lunchtime. I'll write up the report then and email it to you just as soon as I finish it. Okay?"

Dr. Wakeman paused before responding. "All right. Very well, then. But be sure to encode the message before you send it, for security purposes."

Another, even _more_ annoyed sigh followed from Jenny. "Yes, Mother, _I know!" Cripes, Mom, I wasn't activated yesterday, you know!_ Jenny thought, her initial, mild pique now blossoming into full-blown irritation. _Cripes, she treats me like I was just a little prototype!_

"Because the _last_ time you sent me a report _without_ security-coding, it ended up getting hacked into by a four-year-old hacker in Rio Linda, who then used it to—"

" _Yes,_ Mother, _I know!_ You don't need to remind me about that! I remember!" A couple of passing students briefly glanced at her, and she paused, struggling to regain her usual quiet, 'indoor' voice and remain patient. "I promise I'll remember to use security-coding," she said, in a much quieter tone. "Okay? All right?"

"Well…all right then. Just be sure you get it to me as soon as you can."

"I will, Mom; I will! Jeez!"

She was just about to hang up when she suddenly recalled the reassuring thought she'd had the night before, and decided she just had to share it with her creator. "Oh, by the way, Mom," she said with a wry smile, her initial annoyance now diminishing. "About last night? Well, I gotta admit, when you first told me about your improbability prediction, I had my doubts, but now I'm convinced! I mean, when you predicted a real doozy of an improbability, you weren't kidding! Last night was definitely _it!"_ Her smile broadened into a wide grin.

Dr. Wakeman frowned, utterly bewildered by the statement. "What are you talking about, XJ-9?"

"You know; that _mega-improbability_ thing your computer program predicted," Jenny's smile faltered a bit for a moment, but she went on. "The thing you were going on and on about the other day, that you wanted me to prepare for and be on Yellow Alert status for. Remember?"

Another moment passed before the light of understanding illuminated Dr. Wakeman's features. "Oh, _that…"_ she replied, her eyebrows raised. "You mean the predictions of the Hasslein Probability Curve Program."

"Yeah, _that!"_ Jenny said, one eyebrow dropping to a frown.

"Yes, yes…" A full frown, however, slowly crept across Dr. Wakeman's face. "I know what you're referring to now…"

"Anyway, you were right!" Jenny went on, ignoring her creator's grave expression. "As for a mega-improbability, that bank-job last night just had to be _it,_ right? I mean, stealing a bank? A _whole bank?_ Yeah, that's improbable, all right! Downright crazy, in fact! _Nobody_ ever would've expected that in a zillion years! I certainly didn't!" Her smile broadened.

"Yes…well…you see, XJ-9…" Dr. Wakeman began, her subdued tone, along with her frowning countenance, a clear indication that she had something to reveal that Jenny wasn't going to like.

"What?" Jenny asked, her smile now beginning to dwindle, as she picked up on the meaning behind her creator's tone.

"Well, it's just that… Oh dear, how shall I put it…?"

"Put _what?"_ Now Jenny also began to frown.

"Well, it's just that…" Dr. Wakeman hesitated. "Well, you see…it's this way. In checking over the most recent readings from the Hasslein Program this morning, it appears that…that the bank robbery last night actually _wasn't_ the big mega-improbability we were expecting after all."

"It _wasn't?"_ Now Jenny's face fell. Almost literally onto the floor.

"No, I'm afraid not."

"Are you _sure?"_ Jenny asked, hopefully. "I mean, are you _really, really sure?_ Maybe you read the charts wrong or something? Maybe…? Or maybe you input a couple of wrong numbers or something?"

"No, XJ-9, I'm quite sure. I've been going over the readings all morning long, cross-checking and verifying them to the Nth degree and studying them very carefully, and there's no mistake."

"But…but…" Jenny sputtered, still unwilling to accept what she'd heard. "I mean, come on, Mom! Come _on!_ You've got to be _kidding_ me! The bank-job _had_ to be the mega-improbability! It just _had_ to be! I mean, stealing an _entire_ _bank?!_ If _that's_ not mega-improbable, then what the heck _is?!_ How much crazier and more improbable can something _get?!"_

"Well, yes, but you see, XJ-9, that's just it," Dr. Wakeman replied calmly, thoroughly unfazed by her robotic daughter's increasing consternation. "Although last night's mission might, at first glance, appear to be somewhat…unusual, the fact is…" She momentarily turned away from the videophone for a moment, focusing her attention instead on the screen of her computer. "When you look at the actual readouts of the Hasslein Program, once they've been plotted onto a chart, that incident wasn't really all that unusual. At least, not for _this_ town. By Tremorton standards, a bank-robbery—or rather, the theft of an entire _bank_ —was, for Tremorton, really pretty ordinary; even downright commonplace, in fact. So ordinary and therefore so relatively-minor, that the Program didn't even record it at all."

"I don't believe it!" Jenny cried.

"See for yourself," Dr. Wakeman entered some keystrokes into her computer, and the chart for the Improbability Program appeared on the screen of Jenny's videophone. Jenny peered narrowly at the screen, examining the pertinent time-period indicated. There, before her own visual detectors, she could see the results. Sure enough, the crazy, far-fetched and highly-improbable bank-robbery/theft, upon which she'd devoted so many long hours of exhausting labor the night before…hadn't even resulted in so much as a tiny blip on the screen.

"And as you can also see," Dr. Wakeman continued as she warmed to the subject, as though she were giving a lecture to an audience at a science symposium. "Other indicators are still coming in from all over the world, all flashing red, and therefore all pushing the Improbability Prediction line even higher."

"So that means…that the doozy, the big mega-improbability…" Jenny began, but couldn't finish.

"…still hasn't happened yet." Dr. Wakeman concluded.

"And, when it _does_ happen, it's probably going to end up being something a zillion times crazier than last night! Right?"

"In all likelihood, yes." Dr. Wakeman confirmed calmly, as though she were merely stating the result of a simple mathematical equation. "That would appear to be a reasonable assumption, given the present indicators and the rather limited available data with which we're currently working."

Jenny slowly closed her eyes and turned her face to the ceiling. _"Terrific!"_ she grumbled. _"That's just great!_ That means I _still_ have that stupid thing hanging over my head, for who knows _how_ long!"

"Yes, yes, I know it's disappointing news, XJ-9. I'm disappointed too, of course. I don't like to have to worry about this upcoming event—whatever it is—any more than you do. But let's remember this: The time-window in which this predicted event is likely to occur is a relatively small one, and getting narrower by the day. There is still a chance that it will pass us by altogether. According to the prediction and the various probability factors, we only have to worry about it for another week to a week and a half or so at the most. And if nothing happens by then…"

"Yeah…?" Jenny was almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Well, then…as I said before, it could just be because my calculations were in error, or were based upon insufficient data, or perhaps the data itself might have been flawed in some small way that I hadn't detected. Or perhaps the theory itself might be fundamentally—"

"Nutty?" Jenny couldn't help but finish her creator's sentence this one time.

"— _Premature,"_ Dr. Wakeman finished her sentence in her own words, glaring severely at her robotic daughter's unsolicited interruption.

Jenny sighed. "Whatever," she muttered in a subdued tone of resignation, by now barely even listening anymore. "Anyway, I gotta get to class now, so..."

"Yes, yes, of course. Sorry to be the bearer of disappointing news about last night, but…well, that's the way it is with science sometimes. One must learn to accept and live with disappointments from time to time, in order to—"

"Good bye, Mom," Jenny hung up the videophone, cutting her creator off mid-sentence, then turned and continued on her way down the hall, shuffling her feet dejectedly as she went.

 _Stupid mega-improbability program!_ She thought gloomily. _That stupid prediction will probably turn out to be a big nothing! Or if something_ _does_ _happen, it'll probably turn out to be an absolute nightmare! But probably nothing'll happen…! But if it does…! Oooooh, waiting for this stupid thing is like waiting for a ticking time-bomb to go off!_

* * *

The rest of the school-day passed by uneventfully for Jenny. As she'd promised her creator, she used her morning study-hall to write and submit her report, typing it up at her usual speed of 300 words per minute, and taking care to encode it, as she'd been instructed, completing the entire task in only a few short minutes. Similarly, her lunchtime-chat with Brad also passed quickly and pleasantly. She related to him the story of her previous night's mission, during which he listened in rapt attention, his only significant comment coming at the very end, expressing disappointment that he wasn't there to see it.

"Aw, man!" he said with a shake of his head. "I miss out on all the cool stuff around here! I sure wish my parents would let me stay out late the way you get to do!"

Jenny sighed and rolled her eyes, as her friend had somehow managed to miss the entire point once again…

The rest of their chat passed in a similar, amiable vein, although it soon became clear to Brad that Jenny's thoughts and attention seemed to drift elsewhere, and she seemed easily distracted the entire time. He simply assumed that it was the natural result of her having had too little sleep the night before, so he felt no need to comment upon it, as he had witnessed Jenny before in this overtired state from time to time, and for the exact same reason. He was more or less used to it by now, and paid it little thought. Had he been more observant however, he might have noticed her stealing occasional glances every few minutes at a particular lunch table in a distant corner of the cafeteria…

The rest of the afternoon also passed quickly and easily, and before long, the second-to-last class of the day arrived. It was a Calculus class, which Jenny shared with Sheldon. She sat a couple rows over and a few seats behind him, a perfect vantage point for discretely observing him from a distance. A few minutes of free time remained before the class was due to begin, and most of the students milled about the classroom, hanging around at each others' desks, chatting about various subjects and interests, school-activities, upcoming sporting events and the like. But Jenny merely sat alone, studying Sheldon intently, as he perused the pages of a graphic novel.

 _Should I…?_ she silently debated. _Should I…go over and say something to him…? Try one more time…?_

Sheldon meanwhile, casually turned a page and continued reading, wholly unaware that he was under scrutiny.

Seconds ticked by while Jenny silently debated. At last, after a final moment of hesitation, she rose to her feet and strolled casually over to his desk.

"Hey, Sheldon," she said, with a warm, pleasant little smile.

"Oh…hi, Jenny," he said, glancing up.

"How ya doing…?"

"Fine…fine…" His eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, then returned to the pages of the book. His manner displayed the same disturbing indifference to her that it had all week long, almost as though his past infatuation with her had never even happened. "And you?" he asked, not looking up.

"Oh, not too bad," she replied casually. "Whatcha reading? Anything good?"

"Oh, it's just…" he flipped the novel over, showing her the cover. "It's…part four of the five-part mini-series, _Captain Crush on the Planet Ogo."_ He turned it back and resumed reading.

"Oh… Any good?"

He shrugged. "Not bad. It's a back issue, from a couple of months ago, but…still, it's okay, even on a third read-through." He paused for a moment, then added, "The stories haven't been quite as good since they changed writers last year, but…still, it's not bad."

"Mm," she replied neutrally.

Silence.

After a few moments, Sheldon glanced up again and was surprised to see her still standing there, looking at him. _What does she want?_ He wondered. _Why's she staring at me like that?_

 _Come on!_ Jenny silently demanded of him. _Say_ _something!_ _Talk_ _to me!_

Eventually, she spoke again. "Um…" she began tentatively. "I…I haven't seen you much on the way to school lately."

He frowned quizzically at her for a moment, but said nothing.

"Not so much this morning—'cuz I was running late anyway—but…I mean like yesterday…and the day before." she went on. "I looked for you, but I didn't see you _anywhere_ along the way."

His puzzled frown deepened, as though he didn't quite get her meaning.

She noticed, and guessed the reason, hastening to add. "See, I just thought that…" she hesitated, as though reluctant to express what she was really thinking or feeling. "I just thought that maybe…you know…we could all walk to school together again… Like we sometimes used to…" For a brief moment, she smiled weakly. "Remember?"

Another moment passed before, at last, he finally grasped her meaning. "Oh," he said. "Yeah, well, I've been…riding my scooter to school lately."

Now it was Jenny's turn to regard him in puzzlement. "Oh? You have a scooter?" she asked.

"Sure. You remember it," he clarified when he caught her look. "That electric scooter I used to ride before. You remember. You've seen it."

Jenny thought back, all the way to the time when she and Sheldon had first met, and she retrieved a mental picture of Sheldon scooting around the neighborhood on some kind of moped or minibike something.

"Oh yeah… _that_ thing…" she nodded. "I remember now… Crikey, you haven't ridden that thing in ages. I didn't even know you still had it."

"Yeah, you're right… I haven't ridden it in a while, but…well, lately I just felt like riding it again."

"Oh? Any particular reason?"

He shrugged. "I dunno…I just felt like riding it again, that's all."

Jenny looked at him. As before, she had the unsettling feeling that there was something unexpressed, something more that Sheldon wasn't telling her. Another awkward silence followed, as Jenny struggled to think of something else to say.

"Um…I guess it must've needed a good dusting and polishing, huh?" she asked, in a strained attempt to keep the conversation going. "I mean…since you haven't ridden it in so long…"

"Yeah…yeah, it did need some dusting and polishing, come to think of it," Sheldon replied, nodding. "And some minor adjustments here and there…a lube-job…the motor needed oiling…battery-contacts were a little corroded, but I cleaned them off easy… The battery needed a good recharge, too… I actually need a new battery, in fact, but…I can get by with the old one for now... And…well, a few other things needed fixing as well..." He shrugged. "Anyhow, it's running again and I can ride it now, so that's the important thing."

A sudden, vaguely-suspicious thought struck Jenny. "Wait a sec," she said. "I thought you said earlier you weren't allowed workshop privileges while you're grounded. So how'd you persuade your mom to let you do all that work on your scooter?"

"Easy," he replied. "See, _this_ way, since I could claim I needed it to get to school, she figured I had a valid reason to use my workshop: so I could fix it up and get it running again."

"Oh… Yeah, that makes sense…" Jenny's voice sounded pitifully feeble as she spoke.

"It wasn't much, but…well, it was better than nothing. At least it gave me _something_ to do for awhile to keep me occupied."

Another long, awkward silence followed, as Jenny worked up the nerve to speak again. It was odd, but she had _never_ had this much difficulty speaking with Sheldon—or _anyone—_ before, and she couldn't understand why it was so difficult for her now. But for some reason, she had trouble finding just the right words to express what was really on her mind.

"Sheldon?" she said quietly.

"Yeah…?"

"Is…is everything okay with you?"

"Um…yeah, sure, Jenny. Everything's fine."

"You sure? You seem awfully quiet these days," she paused. "Lately, it's like you don't even want to talk to me or anything."

He blinked, as if in surprise. "No, no, it's not that, it's just…I dunno…I couldn't think of anything to say, that's all." _At least…nothing you'd be interested in,_ he thought.

"Are you sure that's all it is?"

He paused for what seemed like an eternity before he replied, quietly, "Well…I've just…got stuff on my mind these days. That's all."

"Oh?" Jenny said, her curiosity suddenly piqued. _Now we're getting somewhere!_ She thought. "Like what? Anything you wanna talk about?"

"No."

The finality of his tone, like a steel door slamming shut and cutting off further communication, caught her off-guard, and she fell silent again, now regretting having said anything in the first place. Yet even though she didn't want to seem as though she were prying, she nevertheless felt compelled to probe further.

"Sheldon?" she said softly. "Is anything _really_ bothering you…?"

"No. Nothing's bothering me. I'm just—" he paused with a sigh. "I guess I'm…you know…being grounded and everything, I guess I'm just not in the greatest mood these days."

"And that's all?"

"That's all."

She absorbed his words in silence for a moment. Then she responded with a small nod, as if finally accepting his answer.

"Well…all right… If you say so…" she said. "But you know…if something _is_ bothering you, you know you can always talk to me about it…right? Like if a bully's picking on you again or something like that." She paused, her expression changing subtly. "Is that it? Is somebody picking on you? 'Cuz you know, if there _is,"_ She balled up a fist and patted it meaningfully against the palm of the other hand. "All you have to do is just say the word, and I'd be more than happy to—"

" _No,_ no, Jenny, it's nothing like that. Nobody's picking on me. At least, not since you pulverized those three goons in shop class a couple of years ago."

Reflexively, she almost smiled at the memory. "You're sure?" she asked, as though still not quite convinced by his words.

"I'm sure," he said, with a tight, strained smile. "Everything's fine. Really. But…thanks for asking." He held the smile for another moment, then his eyes darted to the front of the classroom, where the instructor, Mr. Bustoff, approached his desk, about to begin class, and the smile vanished.

"Well…all right then… If you're sure you're okay…" Jenny replied, as she turned and reluctantly hurried back to her seat, settling in just moments before the bell rang.

She regarded Sheldon with a final, longing look just as the teacher began taking the roll. _Something_ _is_ _wrong, though…_ She thought. _I just know it is! Ohhhh, if only I could get him to just open up and_ _talk_ _to me, like he used to…!_

* * *

End Chapter 3


	4. First Time-Chapter 4

**A First Time For Everything**

A MLAATR-Inspired Fanfic

By Shvique

 **Chapter 4— Concerns and Consternation**

Jenny sat motionless on the edge of her bed in the early evening, staring at the phone on her nightstand for almost twenty straight minutes, silently debating with herself, over whether or not to pick it up and make the call.

 _Should I…? Or shouldn't I…?_ she repeatedly asked herself. _Ohhhhhh, I sure wish_ _he'd_ _just call! Call me, like he used to…! Just to let me know how everything's going with him and everything…!_

Over and over again, she felt the impulse to reach for the phone, and a couple of times, she even picked it up, hesitating only at the last moment before dialing.

 _No…no…_ she argued with herself. _I don't wanna make it look like I'm pestering him or stalking him or anything like that… He wouldn't like that… Besides, if he wants to talk to me, then_ _he_ _can always call…_

And so, reluctantly, she hung up the phone, put it back down again, and resumed staring at it.

 _Call!_ She silently commanded the phone. _Come on, Sheldon! Call! Talk to me!_

Finally, when she could bear it no longer, and with one final hesitation, she picked it up and at last forced herself to dial.

The phone at the other end rang a few times before it was answered. "Hello?" a weary-sounding female voice said.

Jenny felt as though all the lubricants in her entire body had congealed in an instant. For the voice on the other end belonged to none other than Sheldon's mother.

"Um… H-hello, Ms—I mean, _Doctor_ Toshiro," Jenny began in a tiny, meek voice, correcting herself in midsentence. "Is Sheldon available? This is Jenny." She paused for a moment, listening to the silence at the other end, then clarified,  
"Jenny Wakeman."

Another long silence followed before Dr. Toshiro replied curtly, "Just a moment," followed by the sound of a phone being set down, and a hollow-sounding, yet chilling, _'Sheldon! Telephone!',_ reverberating from the other end of the line.

Several moments passed, during which Jenny could just barely make out the sound of muffled, but intense voices at the other end. Although she couldn't make out the details of what was said, the voices sounded as though they were arguing; arguing over what _,_ she couldn't tell. She tried increasing the gain on her audio sensors, but all she got was white-noise from the telephone-line. But whatever words were being exchanged, they sounded extremely unpleasant in tone.

At the very last, Jenny could make out Sheldon's muffled voice saying, _"All right, Mom! All right! Jeez!"_ as he picked up the receiver, at which point, Jenny began to get a sinking feeling in her primary power-unit, suddenly wondering if calling him was such a good idea after all.

Just as the thought crossed her mind however, she heard his voice speak at the other end. "Hello?" he said, his voice quiet, but sounding tight and strained.

"Hello, Sheldon?" Jenny said. "Hi! This is Jenny!"

A moment of silence followed before he replied, haltingly, "Oh….h'lo…Jenny…"

"Um…I'm sorry about…" Jenny began, then decided to change her tack slightly. "Um…I hope I didn't call at a bad time…did I?"

A brief pause followed before Sheldon replied quietly, "No, no…" he hesitated. "It's not that, it's just…" Another pause. "Well…it's just that…Mom kind of wants me to limit my personal calls while I'm grounded. It's all part of the same punishment thing."

 _Oh, no…!_ Jenny thought. _Now I've done it! I've gotten him into even_ _more_ _trouble!_

"Oh…I'm sorry, I…I didn't know…" she said, weakly. "But isn't that…" she dropped her voice to a whisper. "I mean…you're not even allowed phone-calls? Isn't that kinda…you know… _extreme?"_

Silence followed at the other end for several moments, and Jenny immediately regretted asking the question.

"I don't know…" he finally replied flatly. "I guess… Maybe… I dunno…"

Another awkward silence.

"Anyway…" Sheldon spoke again. "What's on your mind? Is something busted on you and you want me to fix it? Well, I can't. I told you before, I'm not allowed workshop-privileges while I'm—"

"No, no, it's nothing like that," Jenny interjected, trying to set his mind at ease as to her motive for calling. "Nothing's broken on me or anything, I…I just thought I'd…you know…give you call…say 'hi,' see how you're doing and everything…" She paused awkwardly. "You know…just a friendly call, just to talk… Like we used to…"

"Oh," he said simply, sounding both surprised and puzzled by her words.

"So…so how—how are you…?" she asked haltingly, hoping her words didn't sound as weak and feeble as they felt.

"I'm…I'm fine…fine..." He paused; then, "How're you?"

"Oh, I'm good…"

And as quickly as the friendly conversation began, it ceased. Another vast ocean of silence followed, during which Jenny tried desperately to think of something— _anything—_ more to say, knowing all the while that, by necessity, the call had to be kept _brief._ For a moment, she almost considered telling him about her adventure at the Dortmunder Bank the night before, but then changed her mind. It would take too long to tell the story in sufficient detail, and she doubted Sheldon would have the time or the interest at the moment to listen to it all.

She then tried scanning her memory-banks, searching for any small tidbits of information that she _could_ share, on any subject she thought might interest him, anything having to do with science, technology, comic-books, basically _anything_ to keep the conversation going for at least a _little_ while longer.

But before any ideas occurred to her, Sheldon suddenly spoke up. "Well, Jenny, I—I hate to cut it short, but…" he said in a hushed tone. "Well, my Mom's kinda giving me the evil eye, so I think she wants me to hang up now."

"Oh…" Jenny replied, crestfallen. "O—kay…"

"Thanks for calling, though. I'll see you in school tomorrow. 'Bye." And with that, he hung up.

Slowly, reluctantly, Jenny did the same.

 _Well,_ _that_ _was pointless!_ She thought, in a mild, disappointed pique as she flopped onto her bed, flat on her back, her hands folded behind her head. _Might as well have not even bothered!_ Not only had it been pointless, it had also made her feel like a complete _fool_ for even having made the effort.

 _Ohhhhh, I sure wish he'd hurry up and finish being grounded already!_ she thought as she stared up at the ceiling with a frown. _This is really getting on my nerves! Cripes, I never see him on weekends anymore, I barely get to see him or talk to him at school, and now I can't even talk to him on the phone?! What the heck is left?!_

Absentmindedly, her eyes drifted around her room, until by chance, they fell upon the computer on her desk. An idea flashed through her mind then.

 _Well…_ she thought. _There's one thing I haven't tried yet…!_

She walked over to the computer, switched it on and sat down. Once it was fully booted up, she logged onto the Internet and then into her personal email. She then clicked the button for 'New Message,' entered a few keystrokes for a message-subject, then began typing a brief message, gradually increasing her typing-speed up to her usual rate of 300 words per minute. As soon as the final word was typed, she scanned through the message twice, giving it a thorough proofread in mere microseconds, inserted some links to articles that she felt sure would pique Sheldon's interest, then with one final read-through and a brief, satisfied nod, she hit the 'send' button.

 _There!_ She thought with a contented smile. _That's_ _sure_ _to get a response!_

* * *

The following morning, Brad and Tuck stood waiting before Jenny's front doorstep. Brad, characteristically, was completely and utterly relaxed, while Tuck, as usual, was a total nervous wreck.

"Jenny!" Tuck called out to their friend's upstairs bedroom-window. "Hey, Jenny!" He waited for a moment or two, then turned to face his brother. "Brad, I'm worried!" he said.

"Tuck, you're _always_ worried," Brad replied with a yawn. "Sometimes I think you're nothing but one big pile of worries with a kid wrapped around it."

"Brad, I'm _serious!"_ Tuck went on, the pitch of his voice rising in perfect unison with his growing anxiety. "There's no sign of Jenny today, we didn't see her at all yesterday morning, and when we saw her in the afternoon, she was acting all weird and everything!"

Brad sighed. "Tuck, she'll be here, all right? It's early yet. And as for yesterday, I already explained that to you. She had a late call the night before and didn't get much sleep, and—"

But Tuck remained unconvinced. "Oh, I dunno…!" he interrupted, with growing agitation. "I'm thinking maybe…like what if…what if maybe she got kidnapped by Vexus or somebody! And—and then an exact lookalike duplicate was put in her place! As part of some fiendish, diabolical plot to conquer the world! And—and—"

"You've been watching too many cartoons, Tiger!" Brad grinned down at his kid brother. "This isn't a cartoon, y'know! It's real life!"

But Tuck turned away, tuning out his brother's words, the way he often did when he heard something he didn't want to hear. He then drew an enormous breath, cupped his hands around his mouth to form a makeshift megaphone, and like a miniature Stanley Kowalski, bellowed out at the top of his lungs: _**"JENEEEEEEEEEEEE!"**_ The resultant high-pitched sonic blast from the pint-sized foghorn caused all the windows in Jenny's house to rattle ferociously as if in a violent windstorm.

" _JEEZ!"_ Brad cried, clamping his hands over his ears, his eyes tightly shut as he winced in pain. The magnitude of his kid brother's superhuman lungpower never ceased to amaze him. It was beyond nature, the way its sheer volume seemed to exceed his overall physical size. _"Jeez,_ take it easy, Tuck! Take it easy! Look, see? Jenny's right there! See?" He pulled one hand away from an ear to point to their friend's second-story bedroom-window.

Sure enough, there Jenny's smiling face appeared, thoroughly unfazed by Tuck's devastating sonic blast. "Hey, guys!" she called cheerily to her friends below. "I'll be down in a minute."

"There, you see?" Brad grinned down at Tuck. "You're getting yourself all worked up over nothing! Again! As usual!"

"But how do we know that's the _real_ Jenny?" Tuck eyed his brother suspiciously. "She _could_ be just the _fake_ Jenny, planted here as part of Vexus' fiendish plot, just like I was saying!"

Brad sighed, rolled his eyes and shook his head. _Oh, brother!_ He thought. _This kid's gonna stick to his script, no matter what!_

Inside the house, Jenny stood before the full-length mirror on the bathroom door. She had transformed her left hand into a buffer/polisher tool, which she then used to wax and shine her enameled surface, going over and over herself, buffing and polishing every square millimeter until it fairly gleamed with a mirror-like sheen. She'd polished her legs, back, shoulders, arms, her head, and the back of her neck, until at last, satisfied with the result, she re-transformed the tool back into her usual left-hand configuration. She then checked and re-checked her reflection from all angles in the mirror one last time, to ensure that she hadn't missed a spot anywhere.

 _There, now!_ She thought with a self-satisfied smile. _This is_ _bound_ _to catch his attention! He can't possibly miss_ _this_ _!_

She then struck a variety of modeling poses, imitating those she'd seen in the pages of various teen glamour magazines, as she continued to admire herself from every angle in the mirror.

 _Lookin' good, Jenny!_ She thought as she smiled at her reflection. _Lookin'_ _real_ _good!_

She struck a few more poses, and then, with a final, satisfied nod at her reflection, she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. After a quick detour to her bedroom to pick up her backpack, she then headed downstairs.

"I'm leaving now, Mom," she called out to her creator, seated in the kitchen finishing her breakfast.

"All right, Dear," Dr. Wakeman replied. "Oh, and remember what I said. You are to come _directly_ home today. No detours to Mezmer's or anything like that. Straight home. Do you understand?"

Jenny sighed at the unnecessary reminder, but otherwise voiced no objection. "I know, Mom; I know. I haven't forgotten."

"Well, all right then. Be a good girl now. Good-bye."

"'Bye, Mom," Jenny replied as she stepped through the front door and outside, closing the door behind her. Her two friends approached her, and the three then turned and proceeded down the block.

Brad looked his friend up and down as they walked and broke into a huge smile. "Say!" he exclaimed. "Look at you! You're looking pretty sharp this morning! All shined and polished! Just like a brand-new turbo-racer, right off the showroom floor!"

"Ah, thanks!" Jenny replied, her cheeks faintly glowing with a soft blush.

Even Tuck noticed as well, and he too regarded Jenny with a big, impressed smile, his concerns of only moments ago now forgotten for the moment. "Yeah!" he said. "You look real nice today, Jenny!" His smile was short-lived however, and his expression quickly reverted to one of suspicion. "If it _is_ really you, that is!" he said, eying her narrowly.

"Huh?" Jenny asked, puzzled, after which she turned to face Brad. "What's he talking about?" she asked, pointing a thumb in Tuck's direction.

Brad gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Ahh, don't listen to him. He's off on another one of his nutty tangents again. He thinks that because you were running a little bit late yesterday and we didn't see you in the morning like we usually do, that means you must've been kidnapped by Vexus, and that a lookalike substitute was put in your place, and…"

Jenny merely stared at him blankly, and blinked, in a state of the most utter, complete confusion.

"Don't try to make sense of it," Brad said. "You'll only go crazy."

"Oh, brother!" Jenny muttered, bemused. _Where does the kid come up with these nutty notions?_ She wondered.

But she turned to look down at Tuck with a smile. "Suppose I prove to you that I'm the _real_ me, by telling you something that only the _real_ Jenny would know. Would that convince you?"

"It _might!"_ Tuck said, narrowing one eye. "But it'd have to be real _solid_ proof! I'm not easy to fool, you know!"

"Okay. Ummm…" she thought hard. "Okay, how 'bout the time I took you to Texas for the World Cockroach-Wrestling competition? Or how about the time I somehow let you talk me into entering that stupid _robot-_ wrestling competition, that I _really_ didn't want to do?" She paused. Tuck seemed to remain unconvinced. "Okay, how about the time when you wanted to make a documentary about me for a school project, but instead, when the time came for the presentation, Brad dug out some old home-movies of you when you were a toddler and—"

" _That's enough!"_ Tuck cried, waving his hands, cutting her off. "All right, all right, you convinced me!" Then he blinked, as though he'd just had an epiphany, and cried, "Jenny! It _is_ you! It _is_ you! You're the _real_ Jenny!" He broke into a broad, beaming smile and opened his arms wide as if to embrace her. "Oh, Jenny! Welcome back!" He ran towards her and gave her a big hug. "Oh, we missed you so bad! And Brad was so worried! We just _knew_ Vexus must've captured you and held you hostage! Was it terrible? Did she torture you? Did she threaten to dismantle you? Or…or was she maybe gonna drop you into a huge smelting-vat or something to make lawn-furniture out of you? How did you escape?! Did you tear down any prison doors? Did anyone help you in your escape? And how did you get back home? Did you commandeer a passing space freighter or something? Or—or did you hitchhike aboard a Vogon space-cruiser and ride it all the way back to earth? Or—or did you—"

Jenny turned to face Brad, who merely shook his head with an amused smile. "Crazy as a bedbug!" he snickered, cutting off his kid brother's further inquiries. "Anyhow, about your shiny new look this morning, what's the occasion? Are they re-taking class-photos today or something?"

"Oh, no, no… No special reason…" Jenny smiled coyly. "I just…felt like it, that's all," She caught the suspicious look that appeared on both the boys' faces. "What?" she asked. "Can't a girl take a little pride in her appearance once in a while?"

"Uh-huh…" Brad replied with a nod and a crooked half-smile, exchanging a quick, 'knowing' glance to his kid brother. _You're not fooling anyone, you know!_ He thought. _I know you're up to something!_

The three resumed their walk to school without another word spoken about Jenny's shiny new appearance or her abduction-that-wasn't. Instead, a new idea occurred to Brad. "By the way Jen, I was just thinking," he said. "Final Exams week is coming up pretty soon and will be here before we know it. Wanna come over to my house after school today, so we can get an early start on studying for it? I really want to try to get good grades this semester, 'cuz if I do, then my dad says he's going to help me pay for a new car." He paused, then admitted, "Well…it's not really a _new_ car; it's just my uncle Harry's old used beat-up yellow convertible. Still, for me it'll be new, and—"

"Hey, yeah!" Tuck chimed in, interrupting his big brother. "And then maybe after you guys are done studying, we can play Rockem Sockem Robots?"

She smiled at them both. "Thanks, guys, I'd sure like to," she hesitated. "But…I can't. I've got an extra practice-session this afternoon after school."

"Oh. Well, how 'bout tomorrow afternoon?"

"Sorry, I can't come tomorrow, either. I've got stupid extra practice sessions _every day_ this week. _Every day!_ And probably next week, too! Or at least until that stupid mega-improbability thing hits, _whatever_ it turns out to be! _If_ it ever hits, that is!"

Brad looked at her, disappointed. "Gee, that's too bad." He said in a sympathetic tone. "I take it your mom is really on your case about that thing, huh?"

"Boy, that's putting it mildly!" Jenny said. "She has no idea what the stupid thing is even going to be, but the way she's carrying on about it, you'd think it's a giant asteroid heading straight for Tremorton, about to punch a hole right through the middle of the earth or something! But instead, it'll probably turn out to be just a big nothing! And she's probably getting herself all worked-up over nothing, too! You watch! It'll turn out to be just another case of the boy who cried wolf all over again, and—"

" _Boy, I'm never going to hear the end of that, am I?"_ Tuck exclaimed, automatically assuming the phrase referred to him.

"Relax, Tiger!" Brad shot his kid brother a sharp look. "We weren't talking about you!" He then turned back to Jenny. "Go on. You were saying…?"

"Well anyway, just that," Jenny continued, trying to collect her thoughts after the brief interruption. "Basically, just that my mom wants me to be extra-prepared for the mega- _whatever-it-is._ See, she wasn't too happy with the readings she got for my performance on my last mission, so she wants to make sure that I'm operating at absolute peak performance and efficiency if and when the stupid mega-improbability strikes."

"Say, speaking of that, I was just thinking," Brad said, an uncharacteristic look of concern suddenly appearing on his face. "You don't…you don't suppose that improbability-thing has anything to do with the Mugatu Cataclysm, do you?"

"The _what?!"_ Jenny half-laughed, half-exclaimed. "What the heck is that?!"

"Oh, you never heard of that? Well, according to some belief-systems, tying together things like numerology, astrology, and ancient prophesies from medieval secret societies and who knows what else, the Mugatu Cataclysm is a doomsday event that's supposed to happen when a large, remote, wandering planet known as Mugatu, will intersect with the earth's orbit, causing massive, global disruptions and catastrophes and stuff. According to some interpretations of the prophesies, it might even knock the earth out of its orbit altogether and bring about the end of the world. And it's all supposed to take place sometime in the early 21st Century." He paused, as if for effect. "Like…like right about _nowadays,_ in other words."

"Oh, _that_ thing _,"_ Jenny replied. "Yeah, I know what you mean now. I've heard about that. I don't believe in it. I think it's just a nutty crackpot theory, that's all it is."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Yeah…yeah, that's probably all it is," Brad agreed. "It probably is just a lot of hooey. Still…I thought I'd better mention it anyway, 'cuz…well, you never know. It _could_ turn out to be true."

"I doubt it. If there were _any_ truth to it, if a large, wandering planet was on a collision-course with the earth, my mom's umpty-ump deep-space sensors and monitors and stuff would've picked it up weeks or even months ago."

Brad shrugged. "Well, that's true," he admitted.

"Say," Jenny said, eyeing him suspiciously. "How come you know so much about the Mugatu theory, anyway? You don't _believe_ in that kooky stuff, do you?" She grinned.

"No, no, of course not," Brad hastily reassured her. "But my Cousin Rodney does. He's believed in it ever since he was my age. He's a total expert on it, knows all about it."

"Your Cousin Rodney…" Jenny responded thoughtfully. "Isn't he the one who used to run around the house wearing your grandmother's wedding-gown, throwing spaghetti on the walls? And now spends his days on street-corners in his pajamas, standing on a milk-crate and wearing a tinfoil hat?"

"Yep, that's Rodney," Brad replied.

Jenny merely stared blankly at him, not saying a word.

"We…we don't really take anything he says too seriously," Brad finally admitted. "He's a little bit strange."

"Yeah…yeah, you could say that," Jenny replied, stifling the urge to laugh out loud.

"Anyway," Brad said, eager to shift the subject away from his more unusual relatives. "Getting back to your performance-readings, you said your mom wasn't too happy about them. Did she say why? What was wrong with them?"

"Well…not exactly," Jenny said with a shrug. "Technically, my overall performance was still above the curve, but not _much_ above. She thought it could be brought higher with more practice. Plus, she's got a whole bunch of new disaster and battle simulation programs that she wants me to run through, to test my responses to unpredictable and rapidly-changing situations." She shook her head. "I've never done this set before, but from what she told me about them, they sound like they're gonna be…pretty challenging."

"But…nothing you can't handle…right?"

She shrugged. "Well…see, that's the _thing!_ I don't really know! I won't know what they're going to be like until I actually go through them. The program is designed to run through a randomizing matrix, which takes a bunch of different elements and then just kind of throws them all together and jumbles them up in random order, like a kind of 'data blender', and then feeds the results into a holochamber-simulator, where I—"

She caught the puzzled looks on both her friend's faces. "I—I don't really entirely understand it myself, to be honest," she admitted. "I mean, my mom explained the whole concept to me, back when she first started work on the initial designs for it, but after about the ninth paragraph or so, I kinda zoned out."

Brad smiled and nodded at her in understanding, then a new question occurred to his mind. "Say, wait a minute. Did you say your mom has a…a what, a _holochamber?"_

Jenny nodded. "Yeah. That's her own design, too. She finished it a couple of months ago. You oughta see it. It's a big, ginormous thing, about the size of a basketball court, which she keeps hidden away inside the kitchen broom-closet. And she wants me to start using it to train and practice with from now on, 'cuz it'll be way cheaper for me to train on _simulated_ monsters and stuff, than have to constantly build new mechanical practice monsters for me to pound and pulverize."

"Yeah, yeah, that makes sense." Brad took this all in with nod of acceptance, before a cloud of confusion returned to his face. "But…but wait a minute. How the heck did she fit a basketball-court-sized holochamber inside a broom-closet? Or do you mean like the closet really just an elevator or a passageway to an underground chamber or something? Or what?"

"No, no, the whole thing fits into the broom-closet, just like I said."

"But…but _how?!"_ He shook his head, still unable to grasp the concept. "I don't get it! How the heck's that even possible?"

"Well you know, that had me puzzled too, now that you mention it. The chamber is actually bigger on the inside than on the outside, and the simulator part is only a small portion of it. The _entire_ holochamber even bigger than that! It's bigger than the whole entire house!"

" _Huh?!"_ Brad asked, now _completely_ baffled. "Okay, now I know you're making it up!" The faint traces of a smile began to tug at the corners of his mouth.

"No, no, I'm not," she assured him the utmost sincerity. "It really is bigger on the inside than on the outside. And when I asked my mom how that was possible, she said it operates according to the principle of Time and Relative Dimensions in Space."

"Say, _what?"_ Brad asked, now so completely lost that now both he and Tuck had frozen in their tracks, as they struggled to make sense of Jenny's words.

"Time and Relative Dimensions in Space," Jenny repeated. "As I said, she explained the whole thing to me about a year and a half ago, when she was first working on the original designs for it, but as usual, her explanation made _no_ sense to me. She said that the holochamber and the broom-closet actually occupy _two_ separate dimensions in space, even though both of them are accessible to _our_ dimension at the same time, and that the interior space of the holochamber can be expanded to the desired dimensions by altering, manipulating and adjusting the time necessary to fill it, and…and…"

She trailed off when she saw the pair of utterly blank stares now facing her, both so completely and utterly lost, that any further attempts at an explanation would only confuse them—and herself—further. She rubbed the back of her head and grinned sheepishly. "Like I said, it didn't really make any sense to me, either." she admitted. "All I know for sure is, the principle behind it wasn't her own discovery."

"No?" Brad asked, sounding somewhat surprised. "You mean there's actually something your mom _didn't_ discover?" he grinned.

Jenny smiled and nodded. "She said it was a little trick she picked up from an old friend and colleague of hers from way back. Another scientist, but I can't remember his name." She shut her eyes in deep thought and repeatedly snapped her fingers, as she struggled to recall the name. "I think she said he was called Doctor…Doctor…"

"Who?" Brad asked.

"I can't remember," Jenny replied with a final shake of her head. "Anyway…I _might_ be free to stop by for a visit sometime this weekend, if I can get through the practice sessions quickly and early enough."

" _Then_ can we play 'Rockem Sockem Robots'?" Tuck asked again, still hopeful.

"Maybe," She smiled down at him. "On one condition."

"What?"

"That _I_ get to be the blue guy this time!"

Tuck smiled in return. "Deal!" he said and with that, the trio turned and continued on their way.

They walked a bit further to drop off Tuck at Tremorton Elementary, and from there, Brad and Jenny proceeded on to Tremorton High.

They'd walked only a short distance before Jenny's ultra-sensitive audio-sensors picked up the unmistakable _whirring_ sound of a small powered vehicle coming up fast behind them. She whipped her head around to look behind her, with a broad, anticipatory smile upon her face. The smile was short-lived however, and quickly dissolved the moment she saw that the source of the sound was a small, gas-powered minibike ridden by a young couple in their early twenties, apparently heading in the direction of Tremorton Junior College.

Brad noticed her response to the sound, along with her subsequent, rapidly-changing reaction to it. He regarded her behavior with a brief half-frown, but otherwise said nothing about it.

Instead, he chose to bring up an entirely different, wholly unrelated subject. "By the way," he said. "Just out of curiosity, how's your term-paper coming along? Are you having as much trouble with it as I am?"

"Oh, um…" Caught somewhat by surprise, Jenny took a few nanoseconds to collect her thoughts and reply. "Yeah…that…" she said. "To tell you the truth, I haven't even started the dumb thing yet." Gradually, her face began to turn sour at the prospect. "I mean, I finished the novel we were supposed to read for it a couple of weeks ago, but I still don't have any ideas for a paper to write based on it yet."

"Yeah, me neither," Brad replied sympathetically. "I finally finished the reading assignment the night before last, and _tried_ to start my paper last night. I only got about a page and a half done before I started floundering! Only then did I suddenly realize that _I don't know the first thing about how to write a term paper!_ I was totally lost!"

Jenny nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean," she said. "Writing's _tough!_ Crikey, no wonder writers are all rich and famous! It's not so easy to _write!"_

"Yeah, really!" he grinned at her in complete agreement. "And what about these reading-assignments they give us! A bunch of gooey mush written like a couple hundred years ago or something? I mean, who the heck can relate to that stuff nowadays?"

"Oh, I dunno," she replied with a wry smile. "It's not _too_ bad, I suppose, once you get into it. There's actually a lot of juicy stuff in there, if you know where to look for it and read it the right way. In a way, it's kind of like the soap-opera of its time! But yeah, you're right. Getting through all that old-fashioned language sure isn't easy."

"Yeah, it's kinda like trying to hack your way through a dense, overgrown jungle with a weed-whacker."

Jenny nodded. "Ohhhh, I sure hope I don't get called on in class today to _discuss_ it," she said. "Or give an _analysis_ or a stupid oral report on it or whatever! If I do, then I don't have a _clue_ what the heck I'm gonna say!"

"Yeah, I know how you feel," he said, nodding his head sympathetically. "Who's your Lit teacher, anyway?"

"Um…Ms. Haghfische. For 'Romantic Era Literature.'"

At the mere mention of the name, Brad immediately made a sour face. _"Yeesh!"_ he said, cringing. "I had her last semester! She's a real monster! I mean, if _ever_ a teacher was well-named, it's gotta be _her,_ right? Ms. _Magwich Haghfische?_ I mean, come _on_ now! Man, her parents must've really _hated_ her, to give her a name like that!" he laughed. "But…on the other hand, maybe that's why she's so crabby all the time! If _I_ had a name like that, _I'd_ probably be crabby, too!"

Despite the grim prospect of the upcoming, unwritten term-paper, Jenny laughed out loud at her friend's observations regarding their teacher.

The pair walked another few blocks, and they soon arrived at the main entrance of Tremorton High. They stepped through the front doors and into a milling crowd of students, and Brad paused momentarily at the bulletin-board in the main hall, scanning the new items that had been posted there for the week, while Jenny turned and began scanning the bustling crowd. She scanned…and she scanned, as though searching for a specific target, but without apparent result.

At last, she spotted the subject of her search approaching from the opposite direction down the hall, a small figure examining a thick sheaf of papers in his hands as he walked. It was Sheldon.

 _There he is!_ She thought excitedly, her energy-levels increasing by several degrees. She was glad now that she'd taken the time to give herself an extra-fine polish that morning. _He's bound to notice me now!_

"Hi, Sheldon!" she called out cheerily with a wave and a beaming smile, confident that her friend would immediately notice her shiny, highly-polished appearance and compliment her on it. She beckoned, motioning for him to join her and Brad at the bulletin-board. "Over here! Come on! Join us!"

But just as it had been all week long, Sheldon's response when he spotted her was one of near-indifference. "Oh…h'lo, Jenny…" he said, glancing up from his papers only momentarily to make the briefest of eye-contact with her, as he continued walking, giving no indication of slowing.

"Say, did you get my—" She began to say, as he passed them by.

But before she could even utter the word "email," Sheldon checked his watch and suddenly increased his pace, hurriedly scurrying away with a hasty, "Sorry, Jenny, can't talk now, gotta run. See you later." And before Jenny could even respond, he was gone once again, lost in the milling crowd.

Just as he'd done every single time she'd seen him this week.

 _He did it_ _again_ _!_ She thought, both crestfallen and frustrated. _Darn it! I got myself all extra cleaned up and polished this morning, and he didn't even notice! He didn't even_ _look_ _at me! He didn't even_ _care_ _! I might as well have not even bothered!_

She sighed in silent, helpless frustration, lowered her face, and her entire body immediately sagged, as though all the energy had been suddenly drained right out of it.

Brad had by now turned around to witness the entire exchange, brief though it was, as well as Jenny's subsequent reaction to it. "Huh! That was weird!" he said. "Never seen Sheldon do that before."

"I know, right?" Jenny said, turning to face him "He's been acting like that for _days_ now!" She turned her face away, as she plunged into a silent sulk.

The pair turned and proceeded to their lockers, and as they walked, Brad looked over at his friend. It was obvious that the brief exchange with Sheldon had hurt and upset her far more than she was letting on. Indeed, her mood was clearly taking a turn for the worse, turning increasingly sour and gloomy, in marked contrast to her upbeat and cheerful mood of only a few moments ago.

"Well…maybe he's got a class or something that he really, really needs to get to," Brad finally offered, trying to be helpful. "Or…something like that…"

"Yeah…" Jenny muttered glumly in reply, then fell silent again.

Brad drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, suddenly aware of a mysterious tension in the air which hadn't been there earlier.

They soon reached her locker, and she opened it, placing her backpack inside and taking out a binder, notebook and some textbooks, all without ever once uttering a single word. Which, of course, was highly unusual for her.

She shut the locker-door a _bit_ more firmly than necessary, spun the dial, and turned to face Brad, her expression now quite grim and with a strange, almost _wounded_ look in her eyes.

 _Is she…gonna cry or something…?_ He found himself wondering idly.

But before he had a chance to say anything to her, she spoke first. "Well…" she said, her voice curiously hollow in tone. "I…gotta get to my first class now, so…see you later?"

"Um…yeah. Sure, Jen. See you," Brad replied, and with that, Jenny turned on her heel and headed down a side corridor without another word. Brad continued to look gravely after her as she walked away.

 _Man, this thing with Sheldon, whatever it is, has really got her bugged!_ He thought. _I know she hasn't said anything about it, and I know I probably shouldn't interfere, but… Oh, the heck with it!_ _I'll just come right out and ask her about it! Today, at lunch! Just ask her what the heck is going on and get it over with!_ _And I don't care if she_ _does_ _take my head off!_

And so, with a decision finally made, and a determined nod to himself, Brad likewise turned and headed to his first class of the day.

* * *

Jenny sat sullenly at her desk, completely oblivious to the classroom lecture then underway, which at that moment, seemed to have so little connection or relevance to her life, that it might as well have been taking place on another planet.

 _I'm really, really getting sick of this!_ She thought, as she stared at the back of Sheldon's head where he sat, two rows over and a few seats in front of her. _Why's he acting like this?! Why's he being so mean to me? He's treating me like I'm damaged goods or something! Cripes, I'm_ _trying_ _my best! I'm_ _trying_ _to be friendly! But no matter what I do, he acts like he doesn't even care! He barely speaks to me! He barely even_ _looks_ _at me! He doesn't give me_ _anything_ _! Cripes, for years, he acts like a total stalker, following me everywhere; then for two weeks straight, he avoids me like I got the Bromdollusian Plague or something! Now he's just plain ignoring me completely! I don't know which is worse!_

"Ms. Wakeman…" a distant voice called out to her across a vast chasm of space-time from another dimension, like a random bit of cosmic white-noise, barely scratching the surface of her consciousness.

 _I've tried being patient with him, just like Mom said!_ Jenny's thoughts continued unabated. _I've tried being extra-friendly to him, just like I promised I would, but it doesn't make any difference! It doesn't do any good! Nothing's changed, except that maybe he's not scared of me or angry at me anymore! Instead, he's just like…like_ _nothing_ _! Like there's nobody there inside him anymore!_

"Ms. Wakeman…" the faint, ethereal voice repeated, like the last fading cosmic echo of a long-departed star in a distant galaxy.

Jenny ignored the voice, but paused in her thoughts just the same, focused instead upon the only logical conclusion which she could no longer ignore, no matter how painful it might be for her to face.

 _He…he just doesn't_ _like_ _me anymore…!_ She thought, sadly acknowledging for the first time the now-painfully-obvious truth. _I mean, he hasn't said so out loud…he hasn't said much of_ _anything_ _, for that matter! But…it's obvious he just plain doesn't_ _like_ _me anymore! No matter_ _what_ _I do! He'll—he'll never look at me the same way again…! That stupid, goofy look on his face whenever I came near him…! With that goofy, glassy look in his eyes…and that stupid, goofy, crooked grin of his…! I'll…I'll never see that in him again…! Ever…!_

For a moment, she felt a tiny sob well up within her and her eyes begin to fill with tears. She struggled to repress the sob and hastened to wipe away her tears before anyone around her noticed.

 _It's just like that stupid teacup!_ She thought with another tiny, repressed sob. _Mom's stupid china teacup! Ooooo, I can't get that stupid thing out of my head!_

Indeed, the incident had been buried in the back of Jenny's mind ever since the night it happened. Even though it was only a simple, minor accident, for which Jenny was entirely blameless, she nevertheless couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that she was somehow responsible for it, that it was all connected to her current situation in some crazy sort of way she couldn't explain. And in a way, the teacup seemed to symbolize her broken friendship with Sheldon as well: it too had been something special and unique, something which hadn't been fully valued and appreciated until it was too late, and was now, like her friendship with Sheldon seemed to be, shattered beyond repair.

Jenny shook her head, trying to dispel the thought, refusing to accept even the possibility of it. _No…no…!_ She thought. _I don't accept that! I…I just_ _know_ _we can be friends again! I just_ _know_ _we can! And I know I can make him_ _like_ _me again, too! Oh, if we could only get to spend some time together…! That's all it would take… Just spend a little time together…! Like we used to…!_

"Ms. Wakeman…" the distant space-echo repeated, only instead of growing fainter, it now seemed to grow louder in volume, and seemed to come _nearer_ now acquiring a vaguely ominous tone. Nevertheless, it failed to penetrate through to the inmost depths of Jenny's private thoughts.

 _But_ _how_ _?_ She wondered. _How can we spend time together, with him being grounded and everything? I never even get to see him or to talk to him all that much in school, and I can't even talk to him on the phone, for Jobs' sake! Not even on the phone! I mean, come on now! That's ridiculous! His mom won't even let him use the phone? How strict does a mom have to_ _be_ _, anyway?!_

" _Ms. Wakeman…"_ The cosmic voice repeated, now no longer sounding like a faint, distant echo, but instead seeming to occupy the same solar system as that occupied by Jenny herself, and now acquiring a faint air of menace, like a starship arming itself for battle.

 _But…then it's not really_ _her_ _fault, is it…?_ Jenny reflected in her isolated gloom. _It's_ _mine_ _!_ She felt another sob welling up within her, and struggled valiantly with all her might and willpower to repress it. _No wonder she hates me…! And maybe…maybe…deep down inside…maybe_ _Sheldon_ _hates me, too…! Oh, I sure hope not…! Dear Jobs…! Please don't let him hate me…!_

" _ **Ms. Wakeman!"**_ the deep, booming, rumbling voice bellowed from right beside Jenny like a burst of thunder, causing her to jump, startled.

" _ **What?!"**_ Jenny cried, her head snapping to immediate attention, to face the immense, imposing form of the _very_ irate teacher standing before her like an industrial-sized refrigerator, beefy arms impatiently folded like a pair of stout, burly tree-trunks.

"Er…em…I mean… Y—yes, Ms. Rahttinbottim…?" Jenny said meekly.

There followed a ripple of giggles and snickers throughout the classroom, as the other students gleefully relished Jenny's moment of embarrassment.

"Ms. Wakeman…" the stony-faced teacher began, her voice now dripping with the most vitriolic, caustic sarcasm. "If you could _possibly_ tear yourself away from those deep, highly-abstract and complex cogitations currently occupying your ultra high-tech mind long enough to respond to a simple question from a poor, struggling, overworked, underpaid, overtired and _increasingly impatient_ teacher, would you _please_ be so kind as to grace us all with the answer to question seventeen?"

Jenny regarded the teacher in total bewilderment for a moment, then glanced quickly down at the open notebook and textbook on her desk.

"Um… Um…" she uttered in a pitifully tiny, lost voice, as she desperately searched for clues to the location of the question indicated.

"On the board, Ms. Wakeman," the teacher pointed impatiently to the front of the classroom. _"On the board!"_

Jenny then stood up, devoting her full attention to the board, as instructed. There appeared a long, rambling, confusing, barely-legible collection of random scribbles which she assumed must be some sort of equation, and which she also assumed must have some tangential connection to the subject of the class. But precisely _what_ connection that could be, she had no idea.

Nor could she hazard a guess as to the answer desired.

She stared and stared at the scribbled equation, desperately hoping that the solution might somehow reveal itself to her—but in vain. It was an equation that, under normal circumstances, she would've been able to solve and answer in the blink of an eye—but which, for some reason, she found herself quite unable to solve; her logic-circuits seemed to be strangely impaired somehow.

Ms. Rahttinbottim stood beside Jenny, her glowering stare seeming to bore holes right through her like a pair of high-powered industrial laser-beams, as she silently seethed in rapidly-diminishing patience.

Finally, Jenny gave up and had to concede defeat. Timidly, meekly, she shook her head in abject surrender, and turned to face the teacher again.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Rahttinbottim," She said with a pitifully-feeble shrug of surrender. "But…but I'm afraid I…I _can't…!"_

Another, louder ripple of snickers, giggles and barely-restrained laughter echoed throughout the classroom, and Jenny looked around at the mocking faces of the other students, each one displaying one variation or another of an expression which seemed to say, _Geez, what a stupid robot!_

All but one. Sheldon's was the only face that regarded her with neither a smile nor any indication of mocking laughter. Instead, his face seemed to convey an expression of…sympathy; almost pity, in fact. It was a fleeting expression, very subtle, very difficult to discern and lasted for only a moment, yet Jenny was sure she'd seen it.

The derisive laughter of the rest of the class lasted for only a moment longer before Ms. Rahttinbottim raised a beefy hand for silence, and only then did the laughter finally subside. The teacher then heaved a heavy sigh in an exaggerated display of exasperation, and spoke again.

"Very well, Ms Wakeman," she said with an edge as hard as carborundum, her grim countenance bearing an uncanny resemblance to a stubbed toe. "Since my lectures are apparently of so little interest to you that you cannot be bothered to give them your full attention for the fifty minutes out of the day that they require, then you shall receive a great big zero for today! Congratulations! Keep this up, and you'll be graduating at the very bottom of the class! _If_ you even graduate at all, that is! More likely, about the only thing you'll most likely graduate to is back to kindergarten! Now _kindly_ take your seat!" The teacher barked out the order in a particularly blistering tone, and Jenny immediately obeyed.

Ms. Rahttinbottim then turned to face the rest of the classroom, and took a deep breath, struggling to regain both her self-control and some degree of a professional air. "Now then," she said. "Is there anyone _else_ who would care to venture an answer to question seventeen?"

Out of habit, Sheldon's hand _almost_ shot right up. He knew the answer perfectly of course, as he usually did, but…at the last possible instant however, his hand froze, mere inches above his desktop. With a quick glance in Jenny's direction—which she never noticed—he then slowly lowered his hand again.

The furtive movement of Sheldon's hand also went unnoticed by Ms. Rahttinbottim, and she continued to scan the classroom, searching for the next involuntary volunteer.

"Mr. Skorznizy," the instructor finally called out to the short, squat, nearsighted little student seated in the back row, who appeared at the moment to be sound asleep. "Perhaps _you_ might like to answer the question for us."

The small, rotund little student started, as though suddenly awakened from a deep slumber, then slowly, lethargically rose to his feet. He peered narrowly at the blackboard for a few moments, adjusted his glasses, then cleared his throat and replied, "Yes," his voice utterly calm. "The answer to _L, U_ and _E_ is…is…" he paused, as though for dramatic effect.

"Forty-two." He concluded quietly.

Ms. Rahttinbottim blinked in absolute astonishment, staring at the student with an incredulous _How in the world could you possibly know that?_ expression on her face, then glanced at the board, and then back to the student again, as though still not quite able to believe that he had, in fact, provided the correct answer. Finally, she regarded him with a grudging but satisfied nod of approval.

"Yes…yes, that is correct," she said, as she hastily regained her slightly-shaken composure, concealing as best she could her amazement that one of her students had apparently been actually paying attention for a change. "Very good. Well done. Thank you, Mr. Skorznizy. You may sit down."

She then turned and proceeded to the next stage of her lecture. Gerard Skorznizy, meanwhile, merely did as he was instructed, settling back into his seat, where he promptly drifted right back to sleep again. ("I _guessed!"_ he later admitted to his friends when the subject came up during their lunchtime conversation.)

Jenny glanced quickly around the room one last time, catching a few, final smirking, mocking looks here and there from various students, before they each turned away, one by one, to face the front of the classroom.

The last face remaining however, belonged to that of Sheldon, who continued to look at her for a moment longer before he too turned away.

But just as he turned however, Jenny _thought_ she saw him briefly shake his head…

…and roll his eyes.

She couldn't be sure whether she'd actually seen it or not; yet somehow, it seemed to hurt just as much as if she had.

* * *

End Chapter 4


	5. First Time-Chapter 5

**A First Time For Everything**  
A MLAATR-Inspired Fanfic  
By Shvique

 **Chapter 5—Afternoon Revelations**

 _Author's Note: Thanks to all my loyal readers who continue to read and enjoy this story and leave much-appreciated feedback. And special kudos to those particularly-astute readers who have picked up on the absolutely 100%-deliberate-and-intentional in-jokes & references (literary and otherwise) scattered here & there throughout. (Expect more of that...!)_

* * *

Lunchtime arrived and at long last, Jenny's morning-class miseries were finally over. She still had her afternoon classes to endure, of course, but…well, she'd burn those bridges when she'd get to them, that was all. Right now, she had more pressing matters on her mind.

She walked quickly down the hall as close to a run as she dared, determined to arrive at the cafeteria extra early. If she was lucky, she'd be able to intercept Sheldon along the way or perhaps meet him at the cafeteria-entrance, before he'd had a chance to grab his lunch and sit down.

 _Maybe then,_ she thought hopefully, _I can get him to sit with me and Brad today, instead of the gaming guys! Maybe_ _then_ _he'll start to relax and loosen up around me again! Like he used to!_

It seemed a forlorn hope, and Jenny wasn't too optimistic about it, but…it _could_ work, she believed, and it was certainly worth a try.

She reached the cafeteria and upon entering, saw immediately that Sheldon had somehow arrived ahead of her and was seated at his now-usual table with his fellow gamers, actively engaged in a lively conversation.

 _How the heck does he_ _do_ _it?_ She wondered. _Oh well, no matter! I can still ask him to join me and Brad anyway. After all, what's the worst that can happen? That he'll say 'no'? Well then, I'll just ask him to sit with me another day, that's all. At least it'll be a start!_

She took a few steps toward his table, then stopped, as doubts began to enter her mind.

For she now found herself pinned upon the multiple horns of a dilemma, borne of a new and growing fear within her. The fear was not that Sheldon would say 'no,' but rather, that he might say _'yes.'_ And then what?

Then the rest of the gaming guys would feel hurt and rejected that she didn't invite _them_ over as well, and they'd probably end up thinking she was a creep and a goon for not asking them. She was perfectly willing to ask them, of course; they were, after all, her friends, too.

But…if _all_ of them were to join her and Brad, then _Brad_ would probably feel crowded, outnumbered and, most likely, _bored_ by the conversation that would result _._ Jenny knew from experience that approximately 99% of their talk would consist of highly-detailed discussion and debate about the various aspects of their favorite role-playing game; a game in which Brad had clearly expressed absolutely zero interest. She knew, therefore, that within approximately five nanoseconds, Brad's eyes would probably glaze over and he'd be bored into an absolute stupor.

And not only would he be bored, he'd probably also feel greatly imposed-upon, if she'd invited the whole gang of gaming guys over to their table without at least asking him first.

So the more she thought about it, the less of a viable option it seemed to be. So what else could she do? Well, maybe she could ask the gaming guys if she could join _them_ for lunch. That was an idea…and she felt sure they wouldn't mind; they'd always made her feel welcome in the past whenever she joined in their gaming-sessions at _Legendary Warriors._

But…she quickly realized, if she did _that,_ then _Brad_ would feel abandoned, left there alone at the table they usually shared.

So that was _definitely_ out of the question.

And finally…even if there _was_ a way she could somehow get them all to sit together and somehow make it all work, there was still another problem remaining, and that was Sheldon himself.

For as she watched him now, seated happily among his friends, laughing and joking in his enthusiastic discourse upon a favorite subject, the others giving him their full, undivided attention, Jenny realized something: It was at such times as this, when Sheldon was among his friends, that he seemed to be back to his old smiling, cheerful, happy self. But whenever _she_ came near him, his demeanor and attitude would quickly shift to the exact opposite.

She therefore knew that the moment she approached his table, and he took one look at her, the smile on his face would vanish in an instant, and his cheerful, laughing conversation would come to a grinding halt.

And Jenny knew that she just _couldn't_ do that to him; she just couldn't.

 _Look at him!_ She thought, with a slow, wistful shake of her head. _Just_ _look_ _at him! He's so happy…having such a nice time, sitting there with his friends…! I…I just_ _can't_ _throw cold water onto that happy, smiling face of his! I just_ _can't_ _! If I show up now, he'll look at me like I was an intruder or something! Unwanted and unwelcome…!_

And so, slowly and reluctantly, Jenny turned, walked away and took her place in the bus-line. There, she selected the few items from the menu that were suitable for the diet of a teenaged robot, and placed them onto her tray, one by one. She picked up a can of Synthoil, a can of Cog-Aid, and a small container of nickel cadmium batteries (she actually preferred lithium-ion, but the school, as usual, was too cheap to provide them on the menu.) She then carried her tray over to her usual table, sat down and waited for Brad to join her.

While she waited, she continued to stare at Sheldon intently, wishing she could catch his eye for even a moment, so that she could smile and wave to him, just to show that she was still willing to be friendly, even if he wasn't. But instead, just as he'd been doing all week long, he continued to ignore her, almost as though he were deliberately avoiding looking in her direction.

 _Come on, Sheldon, come on!_ She silently pleaded. _Look_ _at me, for Jobs' sake! At least do that! Look over here!_ _Look_ _at me!_

But no matter how much she silently pleaded, Sheldon's attention remained firmly focused on his friends, never once so much as glancing in her direction, almost as though he were afraid of catching a glimpse of her by accident.

She sighed, and her entire steel and titanium body slackened, as though all the nuts and bolts throughout her body had loosened simultaneously, and all her power reserves had drained right out of her.

Brad approached the table just then and sat down beside her. He immediately noticed her somber mood, which had clearly not improved since the morning. He studied her in silence as she moodily picked at the few items on her tray.

But he also remembered the vow he'd made earlier that day, to confront her once and for all and flat-out ask what was troubling her. Despite the inherent risks involved, it was nevertheless better than watching her continue to wallow in this ongoing depressive funk day after day, with no clear end in sight.

He swallowed, steeled his nerves, cleared his throat, and spoke.

"So…" he said, beginning with a casual air. "You wanna tell me about it?" He spoke quietly, but with his usual characteristic bluntness.

"Hmm?" Jenny looked up quickly, as though startled. "Tell you about what?"

"Come on," he said. "You know what I'm talking about. Whatever it is that's been bugging you for days now. I haven't said anything about it up to now, but…well, I know something's obviously bothering you. Today in particular."

"What makes you say that?" she countered evasively, avoiding the question.

"Well, for one thing, you've barely even touched your Synthoil. _Or_ your Cog-Aid. And you haven't even touched your batteries at all. And usually whenever you do that, it's because something's bugging you."

She didn't answer, but only lowered her eyes.

"So…why don't you just tell me what it is? What's going on?" He paused. "I mean…other than the usual 'saving-the-world,' heavy-duty responsibility-load stuff, that is."

She raised her eyes to meet his, and regarded him with a curious look, which Brad couldn't quite read. For a brief moment, he almost regretted asking the question, hoping she wouldn't blow up at him as she'd done on past occasions, when he'd made similar inquiries.

But instead, she merely sighed. "Well…there _is_ something…" She said, in a voice so soft and quiet, that Brad could barely hear it.

He set down his can of soda and gave her his full attention.

"All right," he said, slipping into his best 'supportive good friend' mode. "Let's hear it."

"Well…before I tell you…can I ask you a question?" she asked, her face grave. "A _serious_ question?"

"Sure, Jenny." He did his best to give her a reassuring smile. "Ask away."

"I mean _real_ serious."

"Sure. Serious question. Ready for it." By now, his reassuring smile was gone, replaced by a demeanor as grim as if he were confronted with a particularly vexing final-exam essay-question. "Shoot."

"How do you feel about me…as a person?"

He blinked in surprise. Was she kidding? No, she was serious, just as she'd said. Yet the answer seemed so absurdly obvious, that for a moment he almost laughed. "How do I feel about you?" he echoed, his face breaking into a relieved smile. "Oh, come on, Jenny!"

"No, no, I'm serious." She said, her face still grave. "I really want to know. How do you feel about me? I mean _really_ feel about me? As a person. Would you say I'm basically a good person? One who's easy to get along with?"

"What, are you kidding or something?!" Brad exclaimed, his smile widening. "Of course you are! You're both a good person _and_ someone who's fun and easy to get along with!" He paused thoughtfully for a moment, then went on. "I mean…yeah, sure, you get a little carried away sometimes and blow your top or whatever, but who doesn't?" He concluded with a nod. "But in general, I'd say, yeah, you're a good person."

"Well, would you say I'm someone who's easy to make friends with?"

Again, the answer seemed so obvious that Brad almost felt sure she must be joking, even though he knew she wasn't. "Well, of course you are!" he said, his face now beaming. "After all, look at you and me! We're _best_ friends! We have been ever since the moment we first met! As a matter of fact," he paused, then went on in a softer, more meaningful tone. "As a matter of fact…I think I'd have to say you're just about the best friend I've got. I mean, you know that! And I know Tuck feels the same way about you, too. Believe me, you're the best friend we _both_ have!"

Slowly, at length, she nodded, finally accepting his answer. "Yeah…yeah, we _are_ friends…aren't we?" She paused, then asked, "But…suppose…just suppose…" She dropped her voice very low, as though about to reveal a closely-guarded secret. "Suppose you found out that I…did something…bad. I mean _real_ bad. Would we… still be friends then?"

Now Brad's smile faded for real. "Of course we would. I mean," He hesitated, then continued. "I'd be—well, depending on what you did, of course—I'd probably be…well, I'd be disappointed…but…I mean, yeah, we'd still be friends."

She regarded him soberly without a reply. _I wonder, though…_ she thought as she looked into his eyes. _If I ever hurt you the way I hurt Sheldon, I'm not so sure you'd forgive me…anymore than he did…!_

"Why?" Brad finally queried. _"Did_ you do something bad?"

Without a word, she nodded, then lowered her eyes and closed them.

"What…what did you do…?" he asked quietly. "Or should I even ask? I mean," he dropped his voice to a level barely above a whisper. "Just how bad are we talking about here?"

"Well…pretty bad." She spoke haltingly, her soft tone matching his in understated quality. Clearly, it wasn't a subject that was easy for her to talk about; the guilt and shame were still clearly evident in her voice. "Matter of fact…it's just about the worst thing I've _ever_ done."

Brad hesitated before asking the next question. "Was it as bad as…that business with the Musique…?" he asked, choosing his words cautiously.

She winced before replying. "Worse." She whispered.

Brad swallowed, but otherwise tried his best not to react. "What…what was it?" he asked.

"Well, I—" she hesitated. "I—I don't want to go into details, but let's just say I—I was pretty mean to somebody, and I…treated them badly…I mean, _really_ badly. And I—" She winced again, then concluded, her voice now barely audible. "I—I _hurt_ them…I mean, _really_ hurt them…" She shuddered, her eyes tightly shut, and shook her head, as though trying to erase the unpleasant memory of the incident. "It's…not something I'm proud of. Matter of fact…it's something I'm…" she hesitated. " _Ashamed_ of. _Terribly_ ashamed." She concluded.

Brad absorbed the revelation in utter silence. Then, softly, he said, "We're talking about Sheldon here…aren't we?"

She looked up at him, met his gaze for an instant, then lowered her eyes again and nodded.

"I…sort of had a feeling," he went on. "I didn't want to say anything, 'cuz I didn't want to interfere—at least, no more than I usually do, that is—but I had a feeling there was something going on between you two. And I won't ask for details either, 'cuz I don't want to make you angry at me again or anything—"

"You don't have to worry about that," she replied reassuringly. "I won't get mad or yell at you or anything, I promise. I'm over all of that."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that, at least," He went on. "But as for Sheldon, I know he was looking pretty miserable last week; Friday especially."

"Yeah…" she replied softly.

Brad looked at her. It was obvious there was still something more she wanted to say, but whatever it was, she had evidently found it impossible to speak aloud.

"Have you…you know, tried talking it over with him?" he asked. "You know; apologize for…whatever you did?"

She nodded. "Yeah. We _did_ talk it over," she said. "We had a real long talk about it Friday night, in fact. And I _did_ apologize. _Several times!_ And I _thought_ we made up. But now…now, I don't know. He acts like he's still angry at me or something." She paused. "I mean, not exactly angry _,_ but just… _cold…distant..._ Like he doesn't want to be near me or even _talk_ to me anymore." She shrugged. "Lately, I can't get more than a few words out of him."

"And that's a _bad_ thing?" he smiled.

"Brad, I'm _serious!"_ she banged both fists onto the table a bit harder than she'd intended, immediately cracking its surface.

"All right, all right, I'm just kidding," He said, his hands raised as if in surrender, immediately shifting out of his 'cheering/up joking' gear and back into his best 'good, supportive best-friend' mode. "All kidding aside, I really wouldn't worry about it too much if I were you. I'm sure that…if he is still steamed at you or has hard feelings or whatever—for _whatever_ reason—I'm sure he'll get over it. He always does. You know that. In a few days, I'm sure he'll be back to his old self, hanging around you night and day, constantly getting underfoot, generally making a nuisance of himself, just like he always has." He smiled, hoping to cheer her up, as he usually could.

But Jenny's reaction was an ever-so-brief frown, as though she were annoyed or irritated by his words. Her frown lasted for only a fleeting moment, but it was just long enough for Brad to notice.

"Yeah…yeah, that's what _I_ thought, at first," she replied in a low, vaguely exasperated tone. "And that's what my mom said, too: _'Just be patient with him, and he'll get over it.'_ But this has been going on all week now, and I—" she stopped herself abruptly. "He just… He won't… He keeps looking at me like… Or _not_ looking at me… Or else he… Or he doesn't…" She started and stopped her sentences several times, unable to find quite the right words to express the many conflicting thoughts and feelings simultaneously coursing through her positronic brain.

At last, she hung her head. "He…he's not even _friendly_ to me anymore! Anytime I try to say 'hi' to him, he just turns into a real sourpuss! He gets all gloomy and sulky and just _stands_ there like a wooden statue, and doesn't say _anything_ to me! Then he rushes right off again like he can't wait to get away from me!" She sighed as she finished, then fell silent.

Brad looked over his shoulder at Sheldon, seated in the far corner with his fellow gaming enthusiasts. They all seemed to be talking and laughing together, with Sheldon taking a particularly active role, gesturing wildly with his hands as he spoke, beaming widely the whole time. To any casual observer, the boys appeared to be pretty much the same as any other group of teenaged boys might appear when discussing sports or turboracers or other similar subjects. It so happened however, that _this_ particular group's choice of interests consisted primarily of comic books, science-fiction movies and role-playing games.

"Well, he seems happy enough now. He looks just like his old self, in fact." Brad shrugged and turned his attention back to Jenny, just as Sheldon and his friends erupted in a burst of raucous laughter. "At least he doesn't look like he wants to go jump off a bridge or something anymore, like he did last week."

Jenny banged her fists onto the table again, striking it even harder this time. The crack in its surface widened and nearly split in two. "That's just _it!"_ she exclaimed, betraying both her growing irritation and her accumulated pain from repeated rejection over the past week. "He's like that to everybody _else,_ but not to _me!_ At least…not anymore…not like he used to… Now…he acts like he can't even stand being around me anymore!"

With that, there came the sound of another burst of laughter from the corner table. Evidently, one of the boys had made a particularly amusing point or comment, and the resultant laughter from the others echoed even louder than before.

Jenny stole a quick glance in their direction. "I wonder what they're laughing at…" she muttered quietly as her features hardened into a slight frown. "I wonder what they're saying…" She paused, and her frown deepened. "I bet they're talking about _me."_

"Oh, come on, Jenny," Brad said. "Don't be getting all paranoid on me."

"I'm _not_ getting paranoid!" she replied sulkily as she flashed him a brief, withering glare.

Brad averted his eyes, drew in a breath and slowly released it. The tension, just as it had earlier that morning, again seemed to be getting a bit _high._ He remained silent for another moment or two, then cautiously looked over at her again. "Well…um…is…is there anything I can do to help?" he offered in a conciliatory tone. "Anything at all? Want me to…" he hesitated. "Want me to…you know… maybe go over and have a talk with him? You know, explain things to him? Tell him how you feel?"

She slowly raised her eyes to meet his, her momentary irritation now gone. "No…no, thanks," she said gently, apologetically.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I mean, if he knew how you really feel, how it's really bothering you, then I bet he'd—"

" _No!"_ she exclaimed more loudly than necessary, then immediately reigned in her volume. "I mean, I…I'd really rather you didn't. Okay?"

He simply looked at her. "Okay," he said, taken somewhat aback.

She went on. "This is something I just have to work out for myself. But…" she smiled weakly and patted his hand. "Thanks for the offer anyway. And thanks for listening. You're a true friend."

"Well…I _try_ to be," he said with a simple shrug and also attempting a weak smile. _Though it sure isn't easy sometimes!_ He thought.

Her weak smile faded as quickly as it appeared however, as she reflected upon the words she'd spoken just now. _"A true friend,"_ she'd called him, and so he was. And, she was sure, so he would always be. And yet…at the same time, she also found herself wondering if he would _always_ remain "just a friend." Although there was no question in her mind but that he was her very-best friend in the whole world, a part of her had also wondered for quite some time if something more might one day develop between them. It was a wonder made up of equal parts curiosity and hope. But lately however, she began to have some doubts about that. Even though she was still sure that he would always be her best friend, the possibility of him ever being more than that to her now seemed very remote.

And yet, she couldn't even say exactly why…

She shook her head, dismissing the thought, at least for the time being, and focused her attention back onto her more-immediate concerns. "I guess what really bothers me is," she said. "I mean…what if he _doesn't_ get over this? What if he doesn't _ever_ go back to being friendly to me again?"

"Oh, I'm sure he will, eventually," Brad smiled encouragingly.

"But what if he _doesn't?_ What if he's… What if I've…already… _lost_ his friendship? For good?"

"Well…I really doubt that would ever happen," he said, still trying to sound reassuring. And yet, he couldn't ignore the doubtful look on her face. "Really," he added.

She lowered her eyes to the tabletop and sighed. "Well, the thing is…" she went on, speaking so softly that Brad could barely hear her over the ambient noise of the cafeteria. "I feel like maybe I already _have_ …Or that I'm losing it right _now_ …and there isn't a darned thing I can do about it…!"

Brad's jaw tightened reflexively, and he fell silent for a time. At length he replied, "Well, I…don't know. But…I mean…if that really _is_ the case—and I'm not saying it is—but if that _is_ the case, then…maybe it's a friendship that just…wasn't meant to be." He paused. "Some things in life can't be forced, you know, and I guess friendship is one of them."

For a brief moment, Brad almost regretted saying it out loud; yet something inside him told him that it _had_ to be said.

"But what if it's not his fault?" Jenny queried softly. "What if it's…" She couldn't finish the thought, but her meaning was clear.

Brad sighed. He looked at Jenny, and felt utterly helpless. He hated to see his friends so at-odds with each other this way. He was the type of person who just naturally tried to get along with everyone, so conflicts such as this made him very uneasy. He therefore found himself at a complete loss in such situations, when it came to offering advice to others.

Yet there was one aspect of the situation that had troubled and puzzled him almost from the beginning, and he now felt the need to mention it.

"Well, um, Jen…don't take this the wrong way," he began tentatively. "I'm not trying to sound like a jerk here or anything, but…" he trailed off.

She turned to face him, her expression subtly hardened. "What?"

He hesitated, and could only respond with a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of his head.

"You might as well say it," she said. "It can't be any worse than anything I've already thought myself."

"Well it's just that…" he hesitated again, then pressed on. "And remember, I mean this in the best possible way, all right? But…well…I mean, if Sheldon really, truly doesn't want to be friends with you anymore—and I'm not saying he doesn't, understand—but _if_ he doesn't…" he hesitated again, then with an effort, he continued. "Well, I mean…does it really matter to you all that much? I mean, it's not like you really want him or _need_ him or anything…do you?" His words were intended to sound helpful and encouraging, but it was clear from her reaction that they achieved the exact opposite effect. Even he now realized just how petty and backhanded they sounded when uttered aloud.

Nevertheless, he continued in this vein. "I mean, as far back as I can remember, you never seemed to like having him around him very much. In fact, it seems like you spent a lot of your time just trying to get away from him." He paused, choosing his next words very carefully. He was treading on very thin ice, he knew, and he had to proceed cautiously. "So…if he doesn't want to be around you anymore either, well then…doesn't it kind of solve the problem for you?"

She didn't answer; instead, she merely stared blankly at him, almost as though she couldn't quite grasp his meaning.

"I mean, without him getting in your way and being a nuisance all the time anymore, it's…well, it's no loss to you…right?" He gave his words an upbeat tone and smiled weakly at her, hoping to restore her former upbeat mood and formidable self-confidence. "Right?" he repeated.

Slowly, subtly, her expression began to alter, softening to something which Brad had never seen before, and couldn't quite decipher. She then turned her face away from him quickly.

"Wrong," she said. "That's _not_ how I feel about him." She paused for another long moment, then added. "At least…not anymore… I mean, I _used_ to feel sort of that way about him; you know, that I could do just fine without him, but now…now…" She formed circular motions in the air with her hands, as though trying to convey something for which words would not suffice. "Now…it's…it's _different…"_

Without a word, Brad regarded her with a look of complete, utter bewilderment.

She turned to face him. "What?" she said. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Brad shrugged and scratched the back of his head, as though to help stimulate his thought processes. "Well, it's just that… Well, I have to admit, I _am_ a little surprised, that's all. I mean, from the way you always acted around him in the past, I didn't think you cared about him or could even stand him—"

"Yeah, well, I _do!"_ she blurted it out so suddenly and so unexpectedly, that it took them both by surprise. "There! I said it! All right? Okay? Happy now?" She elaborated further, then stopped abruptly and hung her head.

It was the first time that Jenny had ever acknowledged it and stated it out loud for anyone else to hear, and the silence that followed was absolute. Within that eternity of silence, time seemed to stand still, as Brad absorbed the full meaning of her words, and now regretted having opened this particular can of worms by pursuing this entire line of questioning in the first place.

And yet, he supposed, it was bound to all come out into the open anyway, sooner or later.

When at last he found his voice, he replied with a simple, quiet, "Oh…" and a nod, his eyebrows raised. "Okay…." He went on, haltingly. "I just…didn't know… I guess I just never realized…"

"Yeah…well…now you know…" Jenny said in a low tone, never raising her eyes from the surface of the table.

After another long pause, Brad finally nodded in acceptance. "I understand." He said gently.

Jenny raised her head and looked at him. _I wonder if you do…_ she thought. _Because I'm not even sure I completely understand it myself!_

She stared gloomily down into her can of Synthoil, fingering its brim with a steel fingertip. "I never thought I'd feel this way about him…never, ever in a million years," she said quietly, as though speaking solely to herself. "If anyone had ever told me only two years ago—or even two _months_ ago!—that one day I'd feel like this about _Sheldon Oswald Lee_ of all people, I'd have said they were _crazy!_ And yet…" she shrugged. "Here I am." She sighed and shook her head. "Who ever would have thought it, right? But…" She raised her hands in a quick motion, as if surrendering to Fate. "There it is. It's a fact. I can't deny it. And the fact is that right now…I think I'd give just about _anything_ to get him to… _like_ me again… That's all… Just… _like_ me again… Or at least… _look_ at me once in awhile… And…and talk to me…the way he used to…" She lowered her head, shutting her eyes tightly and raised her clenched metal fists, resting them against the sides of her forehead.

"Well…um…" Brad offered. "Have…have you tried talking to him and telling him all this? You know; told him how you feel and everything?"

"Brad, I _have_ tried!" Jenny exclaimed, banging her metal fists against the table again as she eyed him sharply. "Haven't you been paying attention? I've _tried_ talking to him! But I can't get him to stand still long enough to _listen_ to me! Or even when he does, I can't… I can't get him to respond or to…to…" She trailed off, as words once again failed her, her vocoder breaking with emotion.

"Okay, okay, take it easy…" Brad raised his hands, as if in a gesture of surrender. "I'm just—"

"Sorry," Jenny said. "I didn't mean to blow up at you like that. I know you're trying to help. It's just…Oh, I don't know what to do… This is so _frustrating!_ It's driving me _crazy…"_

She stared down at her clenched metal fists before her. There she was, so strong, and yet she felt so utterly powerless at that moment. "What am I gonna do…?" She softly murmured to herself, over and over like a mantra. _"What am I gonna do…?"_

"Well…I'm sure you'll think of something," Brad offered in one final, near-futile attempt to be helpful.

"Yeah…sure…" she muttered glumly. "Simple, right? Easiest thing in the world. Just like gluing a busted teacup back together again…"

Brad blinked and stared at her. _A busted teacup?_ He thought in utter perplexity. _Now_ _what the heck's she talking about?! She's drinking oil out of a can, for heaven's sake!_

He shook his head, hoping desperately that his robotic friend didn't have a few screws jogged loose somewhere…

The pair continued the remainder of their meal in silence, he continuing to gag down his barely-digestible lunch, while she continued to sip disconsolately at her can of Synthoil, the Cog-Aid and batteries remaining untouched and forgotten. As she sipped, Brad's words continued to reverberate in her mind. _'A friendship that just wasn't meant to be'…_ And _'You can't force a friendship'…_ The words repeated over and over in her mind, like a program caught in an endless loop, and each time they repeated, they rankled her further.

Suddenly, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, and little by little, in small groups at a time, the students began to rise reluctantly from the lunch-tables, clearing their trays, and heading for the exit.

"Well," Brad said at last, wiping his mouth on a napkin. "I still think you ought to at least _try_ to talk to him again."

Jenny whipped her head around to face him severely.

"And I know you tried that already," he hastened to add before she could voice an objection. "But it wouldn't hurt to try again, would it? After all, if at the first fifty billion times you don't succeed, try, try again, right?" He smiled in what was intended to be an encouraging fashion.

Jenny stared hard at him for another long moment, then her features softened. "Maybe you're right. After all, what've I got to lose?"

"That's the spirit!" he said, his smile widening. "And look, he's just getting up from his table now. If you move fast, you can catch him."

"Where? I don't see him," she said, as she stood up and scanned the milling crowd. "Oh, wait, there he is. I see him now." It was at such times as this, she realized, that her extra several inches of height proved to be a distinct advantage to her.

She glanced down quickly to Brad. "Um…would you mind?" she said with a quick motion of her hand at her tray.

"Don't worry, I'm on it," he said, gathering up both trays and heading for the trash and recycle bins in the corner. "Good luck," he called to her.

"Thanks," she said, then turned on her heel and with swift, broad steps, headed for the exit. But the slow, thick crowd of students soon impeded her progress, making rapid passage for her virtually impossible.

 _Come on, come on, come on, you guys!_ She thought in silent frustration. _Let's get a move on!_

But the crowd continued to inch along at a maddeningly-slow pace

Sheldon, meanwhile, had been seated much closer to the exit, and with only a few quick steps, had now nearly reached its threshold and was about to slip through.

 _Cripes, he moves fast!_ Jenny thought. _He's peeling out of here so fast, you'd think the devil was after him!_

By the time she reached the exit herself, Sheldon had already slipped through it and out into the corridor beyond, and was now out of sight. She craned her head around the corridor, scanning to the left and right, eyeing all the side-corridors and passages along the main hall, trying to make a best-guess estimate of which direction he might have taken. But it was useless; Sheldon was nowhere to be seen, lost once again in the crowd.

In a desperate, last-ditch effort to try to find him, she fired up her rocket-jets. She had only risen above the floor by a few inches however, before she caught the intense glare of the smarmy hall-monitor. He zeroed in on her with an intense, laser-like gaze, and with a brief shake of the head, his hard scowl clearly conveyed the message: _Uh-uh, Botgirl! Don't even think about it!_ And so, very reluctantly, she cooled her jets, settling gently back down onto the floor again, turned and headed toward her locker.

 _Maybe…maybe he's at his locker!_ She thought for one brief, hopeful moment, and hurried her pace. _He might be! After all, his locker's right next to mine! If I can catch him there, then maybe I can get him to hang around and talk to me for a minutes! That's all I want! Just a few minutes!_

But as soon as she rounded a corner and her locker came within view, she saw the disappointing truth. Sheldon was nowhere to be seen. Which meant that either he had already been there and had gone, or else he'd bypassed his locker entirely, choosing to head directly to class instead.

 _I should've known…_ She thought with a deep, disappointed sigh. _With the way my luck's been going today, I should've known it'd be too much to hope for!_

She approached her locker, opened it, and pulled out her binder and some textbooks. Then, with a final, lingering pause, she shut the locker, turned and slowly walked down the hall to her classes.

* * *

Sheldon strode jauntily down the hall, hastily arranging and re-arranging the textbooks under his arm as he walked. Some of his favorite subjects were coming up soon, and he was looking forward to them. Especially now that the school year was winding down and the material was getting more challenging, and for Sheldon, therefore more interesting.

He paused for a moment to take a quick drink from a drinking fountain. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Bernice in the passing crowd. His head bobbed right up with a big smile on his face, water dribbling down from the corner of his mouth.

"Hi, Bernice!" he called out cheerily with a hearty wave.

Bernice immediately stopped and turned at the call of her name. An equally-broad smile appeared upon her face the moment she spotted Sheldon. He trotted over to her, and as he approached, her cheeks began to blush, and she clutched her textbooks to her chest with a nervous giggle.

"Hi, Sheldon!" she replied, her eyes dropping demurely away for an instant, her blush deepening.

As Sheldon came nearer, he became a bit nervous, as he usually did around a girl— _any_ girl—but with a Herculean effort, he managed to keep it _somewhat_ under control.

"Um… How…how're you doing?" he asked, grinning sheepishly, but trying his best to sound casual and cool.

"Oh…I'm fine, I'm fine…" she replied, beaming up at him.

"That's good. Um…" he hesitated, and began to shift and shuffle his feet uneasily, the nervous grin never leaving his face. "Say, I was just thinking… Um… That is, I was wondering…do you like… Um…that is, do you think you might like…um…" He hemmed and hawed, paused for a moment to wipe his mouth, and Bernice clutched her textbooks tighter, strongly resisting the urge to giggle. She couldn't help it; he was just so darned _cute_ in his own unique, adorkable way.

"Yes, Sheldon…?" she asked softly, the sweet smile on her face continuing to grow.

"Do you…um…do you…like…" he gulped loudly, then finished. "Do you like… Science Fiction…?"

Bernice blinked as though she were suddenly awakened from a dreamlike reverie, and her smile faltered, as the spell was broken. _Science fiction?!_ She silently echoed. _Where in the world did that come from?_ But she merely replied, "Oh, um…I dunno…I guess so…" She shrugged. "I never really thought about it that much, but…well, I guess it's okay. Why?"

Her tepid, near-indifferent reaction went entirely unnoticed by Sheldon. "Oh, well, I was just thinking," he said. "The next _Trek Wars_ movie, _The Attack of Hanni Jos Nor,_ is gonna be released in a couple of weeks, and I was wondering if maybe you might like to go see it…"

 _With me,_ he meant to add, but for some strange, mysterious reason, his throat went completely dry at that point, and his vocal-cords seized up at the precise instant he was about to utter the words.

"I think it's gonna be a really, really cool movie!" he went on quickly, his excited enthusiasm growing exponentially as he expounded upon the subject. "It's all about this evil conquering warlord, and the wicked queen he serves, the diabolical, tyrannical Queen Yakked Hen Lenten, and the path of wreckage and destruction and misery they leave behind as they set about conquering the galaxy! And the small but brave band of warriors, the Knights of Lucida, who set out to defeat them, and—"

"Oh, _Trek Wars?"_ Bernice interjected with a vaguely sneering tone, cutting him short. The last remnants of a smile vanished from her face, replaced by a faint, but discernible expression of distaste. She shook her head. "Ehh…no, thanks. I'm not really into _Trek Wars,_ to be honest."

"Oh… You're…you're _not…?_ " Sheldon said in a wounded tone. Instantly, his face fell, and his entire posture seemed to wilt along with it.

"No. I'm much more into _Larry Cotter!"_ Bernice said, breaking into a bashful grin, her blush returning to her round, freckled cheeks, and deepening to match the bright red of her hair.

" _Larry Cotter?!"_ Sheldon's eyebrows shot up as he echoed the obscure name which held virtually no meaning for him.

"Yeah! You know! The series of fantasy novels! _Larry Cotter, Adolescent Sorcerer!"_

"Oh…" Sheldon replied, in a combination of vague recognition, no small bit of surprise, and a large portion of disappointment. "Oh…yeah…that… The kid-book series. I've heard of that. That…that's…nice…" His flat tone revealed a complete and utter lack of interest in the subject.

"Well, they're not _just_ for children," Bernice politely corrected him, her smile fading slightly for only a moment. "They're very popular with older readers, too! Both teens and adults! Anyway, the next _Larry Cotter_ movie is also coming out next month, _Larry Cotter and the Philosopher's Gallstone,_ and I'd _much_ rather see that! I read the original book when it first came out a few years ago, and it was _soooooo_ awesome! I must've read it at least seventeen times! I've read _all_ the _Cotter_ books, not just _Philosopher's Gallstone,_ and I've seen all the _movies,_ too, and I've seen all the commercials and preview-trailers for this one, and I bet it's going to be the best _Larry Cotter_ movie yet! I bet it'll be even better than _For Want of a Necromancer's Toenail,_ and I really, really, _really_ want to see it _soooooooo_ bad!" Bernice continued to gush with an ever-growing level of excitement that matched Sheldon's own whenever he got started on one of his favorite subjects.

Sheldon, meanwhile, merely stood rock-still and absorbed her words in stony-faced silence, and he became aware of a sinking feeling forming deep in the pit of his stomach.

"I've also read a _ton_ of _Cotter_ fanfics too, and I've even written some of my own! Not to brag, but I think they're pretty good, if I do say so myself! If you'd like, maybe I can give you a couple dozen of my best stories to read, and see what you think of them!"

"No, no, that's really—" Sheldon began, raising a hand in a vain attempt to hold her off. "I mean, I wouldn't want you to go to all that trouble—"

"Oh, it's no trouble at all!" Bernice beamed as she went on. "I'd _love_ to do it! See, I've been trying to get more people to read my fanfics, but for some reason, everybody's really reluctant to even look at them. I don't know why. I mean, my fanfics aren't _that_ long; they're only about four or five hundred pages each or so. And I _really_ value your opinion, so I'd love to know what you think of them. See, my best friend Sharon totally ships Larry with Persephone, but personally, I think Sharon's nuts on that. In _my_ opinion, I think Clothilda is a better match for Larry, and so I totally ship those two, and as for Persephone, I totally ship her with Bartholomew, 'cuz, well, you know, those two are both kinda sneaky and sinister, so in my opinion, that makes them a much better match, just totally made for each other, don't you think? And—OH!—I also totally ship Lady Seraphima with Professor Murgatroyd, even though both Sharon and Lynette think _I'm_ the one who's nuts on that, but the thing is, all you have to do is go back and read chapter 20 of _Larry Cotter and the Curse of the Warlock's Hallux,_ that scene in Grand Wizard Fortinblau's dungeon, where Seraphima and Murgatroyd are kinda…you know, looking at each other over the bubbling cauldron on the lava-pit, and you can just see they're totally liking each other, and were just totally crushing on each other and probably have been for centuries, I mean they're like practically breaking out in love-zits for each other at that point, and—"

On and on Bernice's lengthy discourse continued, and the longer it went on, the more the sinking feeling in Sheldon's stomach intensified. The more detail she went into about her favorite aspects of the stories, and the labyrinthine complexities of the various characters' interactions and relationships with one another, the less meaning _any_ of it had for him, and before long, it all became just so much white-noise to him. He felt utterly and completely lost, disoriented, and ultimately _bored_ by it all _._ So at the very first opportunity—which was a while in coming—he made one final attempt to re-direct the conversation back to the one subject which held some interest for him.

"Yeah, sure, the _Larry Cotter_ film, why not? Might be fun," he managed to squeeze in at last, struggling to bring Bernice's lengthy discourse to some sort of conclusion. "But—but getting back to _Trek Wars,_ see, if you were to just—"

"Oh yeah, that," Bernice said, her initial burst of enthusiasm vanishing in an instant. "Well, like I said, _Trek Wars_ just never did anything for me. I mean, my dad's really into it, and he drags me to see all the movies whenever they come out, but…" She shrugged and shook her head. "Me? I just never saw the point of it all. All that running around and people shooting away at each other with ray-guns, and laser-sword duels, and spaceships chasing each other around and blasting away at each other, and stuff randomly blowing up with flashy videogame special effects, and all the shallow characters with dumb, silly dialog, and stories that don't make any sense, and…" She trailed off and shook her head again in summation. "I mean, I know those movies are real popular with a lot of people, but…I never understood why. I really don't get the appeal."

"Well, exactly which movies in the series did you see?" Sheldon asked, now beginning to bristle with a degree of irritation. "Some of them are better than others, you know!"

"Oh, gosh…I don't know…there are so many. They're all pretty much the same, aren't they? You've seen one, you've seen them all. They kind of all run together in my mind. That last one that came out about six months ago, my dad dragged me along to see that one..." she trailed off.

"And… you didn't like it…?" Sheldon asked, still not willing to believe that anyone couldn't.

"I was never so bored in all my life!" she exclaimed. "I mean, my dad really ate it up; he thought it was like the greatest movie ever, but it just bored me to tears. Just like all the rest of those movies. I was so bored in fact, that I nearly fell asleep right in the middle of it."

"Oh…" At last, the inarguable, painful reality penetrated Sheldon's consciousness, and his entire body seemed to deflate and sag in disappointment, like a Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon that had been suddenly and irreparably punctured.

Bernice belatedly noticed his reaction, and now regretted having expressed her opinion so bluntly. "But…you know, if you like it," she said in a gentler tone and a weak smile, trying to assuage his hurt feelings. "I…guess it's okay."

Sheldon perked up slightly, immediately began to rebuild his bruised ego, and decided to try a different line of approach. "Well, um…" he said. "You…you said you read the _Larry Cotter_ books, but do you… Do you ever read anything else? Any other genres? Do you, for example…" he swallowed. "I mean, I know you don't like _Trek Wars,_ I get that, but…have you ever read any _other_ science fiction?" he asked. "Some of it you might really like, if you gave it a chance."

"Um…well, I've read a couple of short stories, but not a whole lot." She paused, finally picking up on Sheldon's hints. "Um…why? Are there any stories or authors you'd recommend?"

"Well, um…have you ever read _The Demetrios Vortex,_ by Andrei Kobelkov, for example?"

"Hmmm…" She hummed thoughtfully, trying to recall the title. "Oh yes, I've heard of that." She smiled and nodded in recognition. "I've never read it, but the title's familiar. I've heard it's supposed to be really good."

"Oh, it is! It is!" Almost immediately, Sheldon felt renewed hope stirring within him. "It's kind of a philosophical, psychological, mystery thriller story, about this shadowy super genius scientist who persuades other great minds of the world to join him on an investigation of a strange, mysterious phenomenon, way out in an isolated, super-top-secret location in the middle of nowhere!"

"Oooooo, sounds really interesting!" Bernice replied, her curiosity piqued and her interest in the story beginning to grow.

"Oh, it _is!_ It _is!_ It's got a whole lot of good stuff in it!" he exclaimed with renewed enthusiasm. "It's got mystery, science fiction, romance, suspense, _everything!_ And for about two-thirds of the story, you don't even know for sure if the super genius scientist is a hero or villain! And just…that and a whole lot of other things! The story really keeps you on the edge of your seat, right up to the very last pages!"

"Mmmm, sounds awesome!" Bernice giggled. "I'll definitely have to see if I can find it over at Farnes & Groble."

"Well, um…actually…" Sheldon paused with a sheepish grin, as he dropped his eyes and resumed shuffling his feet. "If…if you're really, really interested, and really think you'd like to read it, I'd…" he swallowed. "I'd…I'd be happy to…lend you my copy."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," she smiled demurely.

"No, no, I'd be happy to. 'Cuz I'd like to know what you think of it. And—and then…you know, after you've had a chance to…read it, I thought…maybe we could…you know…talk about it…" _Over lunch,_ he meant to say, but couldn't quite work up the nerve to utter the words aloud. "You know, tell me what you liked about it, what you didn't like, whatever."

"Yes…yes…I'd like that…!" Bernice nodded.

The two stood there in the hallway for endless long moments, smiling at each other, thoroughly oblivious to the passing tide of students around them, as though they were the only two teenagers on the face of the earth, interrupted only by the sound of the bell ringing.

"Oh, shoot!" Sheldon said. "I—I gotta get going now. But I'll remember to bring you my copy of that book, I promise!"

"Oh, that'd be great!" Bernice said, beaming. "Thank you!"

"See you!" Sheldon turned and with a final wave of his hand, trotted down the hall to his next class, his eyes still riveted on Bernice.

Bernice remained rooted to the spot, her eyes likewise remaining firmly locked upon Sheldon as he departed, until, after bumping into several other students along the way, he became lost in the crowd. She sighed, then slowly turned and also resumed her way to class, the sweet smile remaining on her round, red face.

* * *

"Good afternoon, class," the tall, distinguished woman with salt-and-pepper hair stood before the class, speaking in a soft but clear and commanding voice. "My name is Ms. Von Silver. Many of you know me as the librarian here at Tremorton High, but today, I've been asked to substitute for Ms. Haghfische's Literature classes. As you may have already heard by now, Ms. Haghfische has been taken ill with the Frugosian Flu, and will be absent for a few days."

 _Ahhhh, thank Jobs!_ Jenny thought in relief as she relaxed with a huge smile. _It's a substitute! That means I can just coast right through class today! 'Cuz she won't be giving any lectures or calling on anyone to answer a lot of dumb questions or anything like that. At least, I don't think she will… Substitutes rarely bother with asking questions or giving pop-quizzes or any of that junk. Mostly they just take roll, assign silent reading or something, and then sit back the rest of the class-period and read the newspaper or do crossword puzzles something!_

Like Jenny, most Tremorton students either welcomed or dreaded a substitute-teacher, as they regarded it as either the next-best thing to a day off from school, or the classroom equivalent of 40 miles' of bad road, depending upon the substitute-teacher in question. And although most of the students had never had Ms. Von Silver for a substitute before, a few of them did, and they generally remembered the experience as an overall pleasant and painless one.

However, it was _not_ one in which they could expect to simply coast through or 'fake' or bluff their way through in any way. Although not a fully-accredited teacher, Ms. Von Silver was widely known to have read every single book in the school library, not only once, but several times, and consequently, was deemed eminently qualified to act as a substitute teacher for classes in literature. Moreover, she was also known to possess a vast, extensive knowledge on a wide variety of other subjects as well. One definitely had to be on one's toes when discussing almost any subject with her, as she was most assuredly _not_ someone who was easy to fool.

"Now, I see by your course materials that you are studying…" Ms. Von Silver went on, pausing only momentarily to glance at some notes before her. "High Romantic Literature, and your reading-assignment for this semester is…" she paused a second time to consult the notes. _"_ Ah yes, _The Dueling Cavalier,_ by Alexis de Frontenac. Mmmmm, yes, I've read it many, many times." The librarian-turned-substitute teacher paused at that point, with a faint little smile on her face, as she recalled many fond memories of the story. "An excellent choice for a high school reading-assignment."

 _Uh-oh…!_ Immediately, Jenny felt the first stirrings of unease growing within her, aware for the first time of the possibility, however remote, that this substitute might be the type to ask questions after all.

"Now, I also see that you were assigned the book some months ago, shortly after the beginning of the semester." Ms. Von Silver went on. "Has anyone finished it yet?"

 _Oh, no…!_ Jenny thought, with an immediate, sinking sensation in her primary power-unit. _Oh, no…! I knew it, I knew it, I_ _knew_ _it! She_ _is_ _the type who's going to ask questions! I_ _knew_ _it! Ohhhhhh, cripes!_

"Anyone? Anyone at all?" Ms. Von Silver searched the classroom hopefully, and although a few hands were raised here and there, she was met primarily by a sea of empty, blank stares.

"Has anyone gotten through…" she paused. _"Three-quarters_ of the book?"

A couple more hands were raised, but no more.

"Half-way?"

One hand was raised.

"A quarter of the book?"

No hands were raised.

Inwardly, Ms. Von Silver sighed. "How many have at least _started_ the book?"

Now nearly every hand was raised. But a few still remained resting in place in laps or on desktops.

Ms. Von Silver took mental note of these few students, and chose one at random.

"Mr. Fawnswater?" she called out to the mountainous student occupying a back-row seat a like a virtual Sentinel of Doom.

"Y-yes, Ms. Von Silver?" The enormous student said in a tiny, timid voice as he rose uneasily to his feet, the top of his head threatening to scrape the ceiling-tiles as he reached his full height. To look at him, one would think that there was _nothing_ on the face of the earth that would frighten him; yet, the prospect of having to answer a question in class about a reading-assignment clearly terrified him.

"Mr. Fawnswater," the substitute repeated as she looked up at the gargantuan student with a steady, unwavering gaze. "It's been over three months since you've been given the assignment. Haven't you even _started_ the book by now?"

"Well, um…you see, Ms. Von Silver," the student said, rubbing a massive, meaty hand against the back of his bucket-shaped head and thick, sweaty neck. "I…I _tried_ to read it… _honest,_ I did! But…I just couldn't get into it. All those big words and tricky names and long sentences just made my head hurt. I got all bogged down and I just couldn't get any farther."

"Well, how far did you get?" Ms. Von Silver asked, hopefully.

"Um…the…the first page…of the first chapter…" the mountainous student shrugged helplessly. "Or at least… _halfway_ though the first page." He paused, then went on. "The first two paragraphs! And part of the _third!_ Yeah…yeah I got _that_ far! Almost three whole paragraphs!" He smiled proudly at his achievement, and nodded vigorously, hoping that his answer would satisfy the substitute.

Slowly, Ms. Von Silver closed her eyes, and with a deep, forlorn sigh, began to wonder whether Ms. Haghfische really truly was out sick with the flu, or if she had simply gotten fed-up with all the accumulated daily frustrations of teaching at Tremorton High, and had decided to take an unscheduled vacation simply for the sake of her mental health.

But…that was neither here nor there. She was there to serve as a substitute, not to pass judgment on anyone, so that was all she would concentrate on.

"Very well," she said, drawing a deep breath and striving to maintain her patience as well as a positive attitude—neither of which were easy under the circumstances. "Thank you, Mr. Fawnswater. You may sit down now." Slowly, the dinosaurian student settled back into his seat, causing both his chair and the floor beneath it to creak alarmingly under his weight in protest.

Ms Von Silver took another deep breath and decided to try a different approach, one which, she hoped, might encourage and incentivize the rest of the class. "Perhaps we should focus on those of you who _have_ finished _The Dueling Cavalier."_ She suggested. "Now then, of those who have finished the book, would anyone like to offer their thoughts and opinions of it?"

 _Ohhhhhh, I hope she doesn't call on me!_ Jenny thought, along with approximately 99.99% of the rest of the class. _I_ _really_ _don't want to deal with this stuff now…! Not now…! I am_ _so_ _not in the mood for this now!_

Ms Von Silver scanned the class hopefully, and the sea of empty faces stared blankly back at her.

"Anyone? Anyone at all?"

More blank stares.

 _Don't call on me! Don't call on me! Don't call on me!_ Jenny silently pleaded, in the cybernetic equivalent of a cold sweat.

"Ms. Wakeman," the substitute called out to the robotic student in the third row, one of the few members of the class, she noted, who had been among the few to actually complete the assignment.

Jenny cringed the moment she heard her name called. _Ohhhhhhhhh, cripes…!_ she thought, wincing. She _really_ didn't feel in the mood to discuss a book which held virtually _no_ interest for her at the moment, but she also knew there that was no way she could back out now. She was on the spot and she knew it, with no hope of escape, no alternative but to stand and face the music. And so, with a deep, resigned sigh, she very reluctantly rose to her feet, determined to at least _try_ to answer any questions that might be put to her.

"Yes, Ms. Von Silver?" she replied meekly, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.

"Since you've had the opportunity to read the book in its entirety, and you've had sufficient time to think about it," Ms. Von Silver said. "Perhaps you might like to offer us your insights on it. For example, how would you characterize the relationships between the main characters of the story?"

Jenny stared blankly at Ms. Von Silver. "Characterize them?" She echoed the words with a brief shake of her head. "How do you mean? I…I'm not sure I understand the question,"

"Well, for example, who would you say is the primary antagonist of the story? You know; the 'villain,' so to speak. Who do you think provides the main conflict? Would you say it's the Viscount? Or Raoul? "

In the nanoseconds which followed, Jenny struggled to come up with a suitable response. _Think…think…think…_ the single word command repeated through her positronic brain at lightning speed, searching desperately for an answer.

She was sure of one thing, however, and that was that there was _no way_ she would repeat her embarrassing experience of earlier that morning, of having to admit in front of everyone that she didn't know the answer. So instead, she struggled to recall as many details of the story as she could, as well as her own impressions, reactions and emotional responses to it, in the hopes that they might inspire some ideas.

Fortunately, one idea came to her in a flash. "Well…if you ask me…" she said. "I'd say 'neither.'"

"Neither?" The substitute appeared puzzled by the response.

"That's right," Jenny confirmed. "I don't think either Raoul _or_ the Viscount are the main source of conflict in the story. In my opinion, I think the main cause of all the trouble is _Francoise herself."_

"Really!" Ms. Von Silver said, her eyebrows raised, now quite surprised by the novelty of Jenny's answer. "Interesting… Would you care to explain that?"

"Well, I just mean that, although Francoise isn't strictly speaking an _antagonist—_ I mean, not like the way _you_ mean, she's not really a villain—but let's face it: she _does_ seem to cause most of the trouble throughout the story, by acting like such a complete ninny and an airhead and a ditz all the time!"

A couple of stifled giggles sounded in the classroom in response to Jenny's choice of words, and she felt her self-confidence begin to grow. _Hey, this is pretty easy!_ She thought with a growing smile. _Maybe I can just keep winging it, coast right through this thing and somehow come through unscathed after all!_

"I mean, there she is," she went on, the cadence of her speech increasing as the words came more easily to her, her thoughts firing through her mind at light speed velocity and uttered through her voder as rapidly as they occurred to her. "She's got all these guys constantly chasing after her, she's got her pick of all of them, and yet she kept acting like such a total ditz with _all_ of them! Like the Viscount, for example! If Francoise had any sense, she should've told him to get lost and hit the road the first time she crossed paths with him! I mean, anybody could've seen right from Chapter Three that the guy was a creep and a louse, even with all his wealth and estates and his palaces and castles and all that stuff, and yet throughout most of the story, Francoise kept toying with him, leading him on, playing him against the other two guys, Pierre and Raoul, who—"

"Ah, very interesting," Ms. Von Silver tried to interject, to maintain some semblance of a dialog. "Now, about Francoise's rather complicated relationship to Pierre and Raoul—"

"I mean, there she goes again, constantly playing one against the other," Jenny went on without missing a beat, regarding Ms. Von Silver's words as only a minor, momentary distraction to be ignored. "Constantly playing Pierre against Raoul, Raoul against Pierre, and _both_ of them against the Viscount, and then all three of them against Etienne later on when he showed up in the story, and of course that just caused even _more_ trouble, and just…generally acting like a complete nincompoop to everybody all the time, and _ooooo!_ That just made my oil boil! There were times I just wanted to punch her in the face! 'Cuz if she wasn't so _stupid,_ if she had even an _ounce_ of sense, she should've realized by Chapter 17 that _Raoul_ was really the one for her! I mean, yeah, sure, both Pierre and Etienne were nice guys, but neither one was really right for her. Especially Etienne. I mean, he was only a minor character after all, let's face it. And yeah, sure, he was good-looking, but he was also dumb as a fence-post! So we all know _he_ wasn't the one for her. Pierre was a good guy, a decent guy, the typical Romantic hero and all that jazz, but let's face it, he didn't really love Francoise; I mean, he didn't _really, really_ love her,not the way she really _wanted_ to be loved—although why she felt she had any right to be loved by _anyone,_ I'll never know, not after the way she treated everybody!—but anyhow, it was obvious that Pierre would never be more than just a good friend to her, more like a brother than a boyfriend, and she should've realized that by chapter 12, like it was obvious to _anybody_ following the story, when he started chasing around after Adele—"

"Now—now, you bring up an interesting point about Adele," Ms. Von Silver again struggled in vain to interject and regain some degree of control over the discussion. "So let's talk a bit about Pierre's relationship with her, and how it reflected the changing mores and attitudes of late Eighteenth Century Florin—"

But once again, Jenny's unstoppable 500-word-per-minute verbal express-train barreled right on over and past Ms. Von Silver's futile attempts at a dialog, ignoring the librarian/substitute's words as though they were nothing more than the faint buzz of a small, bothersome insect in the background. And as Jenny spoke, her voice grew in volume, passion and intensity, to a level which matched the rapidity of her words.

"I mean, Adele was another one!" she went on. "Pretty, but _cripes,_ was she dumb! I mean, _really_ dumb! _Rock-stupid,_ in fact! Not a thought in her pretty little head throughout the entire story! Personally, I think Pierre was way too good for her, to be honest, but what do I know? I'm only a robot, but even I've got better sense than that! Still, she was the one Pierre really, really wanted, so if Francoise had any sense, then she should've seen that early on and done the right thing and just stepped aside. Just like she should've seen that _Raoul_ was truly the one for her, the only one who really _loved_ her, the only one who really _cared_ about her, the only one who was totally devoted to her, and if she wasn't such a total emptyheaded ditz and a flake and a numbskull, then she would've _seen_ that, and stopped treating him like dirt all the time the way she did! If only she'd read the signals, then _he_ wouldn't have had to waste all that time and energy fighting all those stupid pointless duels over her to defend her honor and all that junk, until he finally made the mistake of tangling with the Viscount that one last time in chapter 20, and got skewered for his trouble! And, OH! I am _so_ glad the author didn't kill off Raoul then, or I'd have been _ticked! Really_ ticked! But the thing is, if Francoise didn't act like such a total ditz all the time, if she'd only given him a sign now and then, and shown him that she cared about him even just a _little_ bit, then the whole stupid mess could've been avoided, and even by the end of the story, when it seemed like it might be too late, even _then_ if she'd only given him a sign—just a teeny-weeny tiny little sign—that she was _really, really,_ _really_ _sorry,_ and that all she wanted was for him to forgive her and give her another chance, that she'd make it all up to him! Then he'd know that she really _does_ care about him and love him, and maybe he'd _understand_ all that if only he'd at least _talk_ to her once in awhile, if he wasn't always rushing around, always in a big, stupid hurry to get to another stupid class or something! If he'd only just stop and talk to her in the hallway once in awhile, or if they could at least get to talk on the phone once in awhile in the evening like they used to, or if he would at least answer her emails, or _something,_ then maybe she could—"

Suddenly, Jenny realized too late what she was saying—that she had, in fact, already said too much—and her mouth clamped tightly shut. Her pupils contracted to tiny pinpoints, and the LEDs beneath her cheeks flared up in a bright, brilliant blue of an intense, embarrassed blush.

" _Oops…!"_ the single word crept out of her vocoder in a tiny, barely-audible squeak. "I—I didn't mean…"

But it was already too late; the damage had been done. Too much had already been said for it to be so easily retracted. Silently, she scanned the classroom and saw before her a sea of stunned, silent faces all staring at her, mouths agape, absolutely astonished at what they'd just heard.

Among the stunned faces was Ms. Von Silver, who also stared open-mouthed at Jenny, utterly speechless over what had just transpired before her.

The absolute, dead silence lasted for only a moment, before tiny, agonizing ripples of laughter sounded here and there, tiny snickers at first, then growing and swelling in volume, until the entire classroom exploded into roars and tsunami-magnitude waves of raucous, jeering, mocking laughter.

Jenny's first impulse was to burst into tears. Her immediate next impulse was to hide under her desk, or to make a mad dash from the classroom. For a brief moment, she even felt as though she was about to spontaneously fall to pieces, her various component parts scattering all over the classroom floor. Yet even that would've been preferable to devastating roars of mocking, derisive laughter which she now had to endure.

But no escape was possible. She remained firmly rooted to the spot where she stood, as though bolted to the floor. And when the laughter had at last abated to a level where she could comfortably speak without having to shout, she concluded her lengthy, verbose discourse with a pitifully-feeble, "I…I mean, that's what I _think_ …I mean, I _guess_ that's what the story…um…means…" She floundered, her pitifully-small voice trailing off helplessly, immediately overwhelmed in the waves of laughter which resumed and grew once again in volume.

Fortunately, Ms. Von Silver at last recovered from her own stunned reaction and came to Jenny's rescue. She raised a hand, requesting silence.

"Quiet, please," she called out in a clear, firm voice as she addressed the class. "Please, class. Let's be respectful and have some quiet." When the laughter at last subsided, Ms. Von Silver addressed Jenny in a gentle, reassuring tone, "Well, um…I…I must say, that is…a very… _interesting_ interpretation, Ms. Wakeman. It…certainly is a _unique_ one. I…I don't believe anyone else has offered _quite_ the same take on the story as you have." she paused, scrambling to come up with a dignified, graceful exit for the humiliated student who stood before her. "Perhaps…perhaps you might want to make that the subject of your term-paper?" she offered at last. "Yes…yes, I see from Ms. Haghfische's notes that you haven't submitted a subject for your paper yet. So perhaps you might want to consider using your…unique perspective on the story for your paper?" She paused, then concluded. "Yes…yes, that would be my recommendation: That you consider writing your term-paper on your…unique and most original interpretation of _The Dueling Cavalier."_ She regarded Jenny with what was intended to be a reassuring smile and a nod. "Thank you, Ms. Wakeman. You may sit down now."

As instructed, Jenny resumed her seat, slumping down low until her chin rested on the desktop. She peered up and around the classroom, scarcely able to look at the smirking, mocking faces surrounding her, all thoroughly relishing this, her second, and even _worse_ humiliation of the day. And this time, their mocking snickers and sneering, scornful facial expressions were accompanied by the most vicious and cruel remarks, each one more caustic and vitriolic than the one before; each one penetrating to the core of her Positronic soul like a high-powered, military-grade laser-beam.

She couldn't stand another picosecond of the mocking faces or the snide, derisive comments uttered in whispered but contemptuous tones, and before she'd even realized what she was doing, she re-configured her physical form into a large, comforting, turtle-like shell—a nervous response to which she sometimes resorted in times of great anxiety or stress. The shell completely enveloped and enclosed her, allowing her the approximation of some small degree of isolation and security, if only for the moment.

She shut her eyes tightly inside the comfort of her shell, wincing as the subdued titters and whispered comments continued to penetrate to her audio-sensors. She wished she could simply remain there, safely within the shell, and not have to face the mockery and the verbal barbs of the other students for the remainder of the day.

And at the moment, she was fully prepared to do just that: To simply remain inside the shell until the end of the day, the end of the school-year, the end of the world, or until she rusted away to nothing…or at least until the humiliation of the moment had died away, whichever came first.

She knew one fact for an absolute certainty however, and that was that there was no way she would _ever…_ _ever_ _…_ _ **ever**_ hear the end of this latest humiliation. Not in a hundred thousand million years. Or even longer. In fact, she was convinced that, even if the sun were to suddenly go nova one day, and the earth were fried to a cinder in the process, there would still be _some_ form of life remaining _somewhere_ in the universe to remind her, tease her and taunt her about the incident.

But, she realized, there was still one small saving grace, one tiny glimmer of good fortune to be found within the otherwise dismal circumstances, for which she considered herself eternally fortunate:

At least Sheldon hadn't been there to witness it. _Or_ to hear every embarrassing word she'd said.

And yet, even as she pondered this pitifully-meager consolation, she also knew that it was only a matter of time before he'd hear about it.

* * *

End Chapter 5


	6. First Time-Chapter 6

**A First Time For Everything**  
A MLAATR-Inspired Fanfic  
By Shvique

 **Chapter 6— Renewed Purpose**

The final bell rang for the day, and Jenny leapt from her seat and shot out the door of the classroom like a bullet fired from a gun. Nearly flying down the hall, she made a brief, final stop at her locker to toss some unneeded textbooks inside and grab her backpack, before slamming the locker shut, turning and sailing back down the hallway. She was through the main exit and outside in seconds, long before most students had even fully emerged from their classrooms. Once outdoors, she broke into sprint toward home at top speed, without even bothering to wait for Brad, the way she normally did. She would even have flown, but since she knew she would need to conserve energy for her drills later on, she chose to run home instead as the better, more energy-efficient option.

It was, of course, a regular after-school practice day for her, something she was quite used to by now. But with the drills becoming more intensive lately, there were to be no after-school detours on the way home. No side-trips to Mezmer's, or to the mall, or to any of other places Jenny liked to hang out with her friends. No; until the predicted mega-improbability struck—whatever it was—the rule was to come home _directly,_ and that was _it,_ no arguments about it.

The truth was, Jenny didn't particularly mind coming home extra-early these days. It had been a fiendishly difficult week for her at school, with one miserable, humiliating experience after another, topped off by one especially nightmarish incident in particular: a momentary, in-class mental slip-up and subsequent meltdown she experienced, which in turn resulted in inevitable and endless teasing and taunting from the other kids for days afterward. And as the week progressed, the remarks grew more obnoxious and irritating in nature.

" _Hey, Botgirl, heard you blew a fuse in class the other day!"_ was one such typical remark. Or _"Hey Rust-bucket! What's the matter? Fry one too many circuits over the years?"_ Or _"Hey, Aluminum-Butt! Guess you got a short-circuit in the old brainbox the other day or something, huh? Maybe you oughta get an upgrade to a newer model!",_ along with other, similar comments, whose crudity was matched only by their lack of wit or cleverness.

Mocking taunts, insults and put-downs were, of course, nothing new for Jenny; she'd had to endure them ever since her first day of school. But this latest round seemed especially hurtful, for some reason. And by now, it was also becoming really tiresome. The insults and comments not only stung, but they were essentially little more than endless repetitions of the same stupid idea with only slight variation between them. After a certain point, Jenny had become more or less inured to them, and her usual response was to simply roll her eyes and mutter a tepid response, such as, "Hey moron, the 20th Century called, and they want one of their antique put-downs back!" Which usually sailed right over the empty head of the intended recipient, but that didn't matter. Jenny felt slightly better for at least coming up with _some_ kind of a response, rather than simply suffering in silence.

But now that another school day was over, and with the weekend fast approaching, Jenny simply wanted _out. Out_ and _away_ from school for at least a few hours in the afternoon, back to the relative tranquility of her home _._ Away from all the heartache and humiliation of the past week. Away from all the snide, mocking remarks and put-downs. Away from the fruitless, frustrating near-miss brief encounters with Sheldon. Away from _everything._ Her sole priority at the moment was to simply get _out,_ as quickly and painlessly as possible.

Jenny was also eager to get back to the new practice holochamber her creator had constructed for her. Jenny was quite pleasantly surprised to discover that she _liked_ it. Practicing with it was even kind of fun in a way, rather like playing a life-sized, full sensory experience video-game, with plenty of new, exciting and challenging programs that changed frequently; often enough to keep her from becoming bored. And it had another advantage as well, as Jenny discovered: it was a _great_ way to let off steam at the end of the day and work out her pent-up frustrations, by pounding away at huge, computer-generated holo-monsters of every size, manner and variety for a few hours.

On this particular day however, Jenny had other reasons for wanting to be home early; reasons which had nothing to do with school, taunting remarks from other students, or even extra practice-sessions in the holochamber. On this day, she had a more _personal_ priority in mind, which she wanted to attend to first.

So the moment she set foot inside the front door, she immediately dashed upstairs to her bedroom, threw her backpack into a corner and switched on her computer. Once it was fully booted up, she logged into her personal email account and anxiously scanned the inbox in a quick nanosecond.

 _Still nothing!_ She thought with a frustrated sigh. _No reply, not even a simple acknowledgment,_ _nothing_ _! And I sent him a whole_ _bunch_ _of emails by now! Why won't he answer them?_

She released another, even more exasperated sigh, then clicked on the icon for 'New Message' and began typing:

 _Hi Sheldon!_ She began, striving to maintain an upbeat tone.

 _Like I said in my earlier emails, I'm real, real sorry about that business over the phone the other night when I tried calling you. I really, really,_ _really_ _didn't mean to get you into more trouble with your mom. I hope she wasn't_ _too_ _angry at me!_

She paused, momentarily at a blank, as she tried to think of what to say next.

 _Um…_ she continued tentatively, then hit the backspace-key several times to delete the useless word. _Also, I hope you being grounded doesn't include using the internet, otherwise, I guess you won't even be able to read this message, will you? LOL!_ She inserted a goofy, 'smiley-face' emoji at that point.

 _But just in case you can read this, I hope your week's going okay otherwise, and that all that extra schoolwork you gotta do isn't too much of a pain. I know it's no fun being grounded, believe me! I've been there a whole lot of times myself, so I know it's no picnic. But hang in there and you'll be through it before you know it, and then we can get back to hanging out together like we used to!_

She paused in her typing for a moment, wondering if she should have included that last bit in her message. _Am I being too pushy?_ She wondered. With a brief shake of her head, she dismissed the thought and continued her message:

 _Also, I hope you liked the articles I've been sending you, about hyper conductive alloys fabrication, some new discoveries in astronomy and nanotechnology, and the new Summer movies coming out and other stuff. They all sounded like the kinds of things you like, so I hope you enjoyed reading them & that they helped pass the time while you're stuck at home. I know you're pretty busy with schoolwork and everything these days, but if you get a chance, I sure would like to spend at least a __little_ _time with you at school or wherever!_

 _See you soon! And email when you can!_

 _Lo—_

She stopped herself from typing further at the very last nanosecond, then hit the backspace key a couple of times to delete the letters. She resumed typing again, substituting a different closing:

 _Your Friend,_

 _Jenny_

She inserted her own personal symbol/avatar underneath her name, the familiar, easily-recognizable stylized graphic of her own smiling face. She read over the brief message, made a couple of minor corrections of punctuation and spelling, then, satisfied that it would generate the response she wanted, she smiled and nodded in approval.

 _There!_ She thought. _That oughta do it!_

" _XJ-9!"_ Dr. Wakeman called from downstairs.

"Yeah, Mom?" Jenny replied.

"Time for your practice session!"

"Be right down."

After a final moment's hesitation, Jenny hit the 'send' button, and with that, the message vanished from her computer-screen and out into etherspace. She then logged off her email and shut down the computer.

 _Ohhhhh, I sure hope_ _this_ _one does the trick!_ She thought as she rose to her feet. _The first dozen or so didn't work, maybe_ _this_ _one will… Was it a dozen? Or was it more…? I lost count…_ She took a final wistful look at the now-darkened computer, then turned and headed downstairs.

* * *

The practice-drills which Dr. Wakeman had devised for Jenny had become quite sophisticated and complex over the years. In the beginning, they mostly used specially constructed robotic adversaries for Jenny to 'fight' in mock-battles, under real-world conditions. But with the creation of the holochamber, these practice-adversaries were now purely virtual in nature, computer-generated creations which existed only within the simulated realm of the holochamber programs. Even though they were only illusory, these simulations were amazingly lifelike and realistic; they looked, sounded, and even _felt_ so much like the real thing, that Jenny could almost feel the blows she sustained during the drill.

But whether real-world or virtual, the practice-drills still served the same purpose: To increase Jenny's reactions and responses, to further hone her fighting skills, and to enhance her transformational capabilities. They were also occasionally used to test new weapons-systems and other new equipment, devices and attachments that Dr. Wakeman had invented. And finally, the drills also helped Jenny to develop and enhance her problem-solving skills, forcing her to think quickly in unexpected and rapidly-changing situations, and extricate herself from all manner and variety of dire situations and predicaments.

The drills did have some drawbacks, however. For one thing, Jenny's weapons had to be disarmed for them first, or else she'd soon blow the holochamber apart. Instead, her weapons were modified to flash bright LED-generated beams of light of specific frequencies, to simulate laser shots or rocket-fire or other types of weaponry. Her strength was also greatly scaled-back, to prevent her from knocking down the entire house. Similarly, the adversaries she faced also used only simulated weapons-fire, with LED flashes of various colors to indicate the type of weapon used. Jenny was therefore never in any actual physical danger during the drills, which sometimes made it difficult for her to get into the proper frame of mind for them. She sometimes found it hard to think and act quickly enough when she knew her life and safety weren't in any real danger.

Another drawback lay in the fact that Jenny tended to master the drills very quickly; so quickly, in fact, that she easily became bored with them. Dr. Wakeman solved this problem by means of a randomizing matrix she invented, which took various dissimilar program elements, combined them in random order, and generated the most unlikely, unpredictable and improbable of results. These were then fed directly into the holochamber's imaging circuits, which in turn generated unique and constantly-changing drill scenarios, each with entirely new and unexpected sets of problems for Jenny to solve, and new adversaries for her to face and overcome.

The results generated by the randomizing matrix were far more unusual—and even sometimes downright absurd—than anything Dr. Wakeman could have ever dreamt up unaided, and the matrix rarely generated the exact same results twice; every single drill was either slightly or radically different from all others which preceded it. Often, neither Jenny nor Dr. Wakeman herself ever knew precisely what might be coming next.

Thus, the matrix solved two problems at once. One, by creating new and constantly changing programs that were unique and varied, it enough prevented Jenny from becoming bored. And Two, it prepared her for the highly-unpredictable nature of the upcoming Mega-Improbable Event.

Some of the drills were based in an earth environment, in the air, underwater and on dry land; some were set outer space, and some were set in alien worlds, both real and imagined, under a variety of atmospheric and lighting conditions. Jenny had by now become quite adept at performing well in any environment, and she felt confident that she could handle anything the randomizing matrix could come up with.

The four drills planned for the day's practice were all earth-based, and involved fighting more or less conventional opponents. They were of increasing complexity and difficulty, the first of which was relatively easy: Breaking up a fight between two ten-foot-tall Titanium Megadroid Robots at a robot-carnival. Jenny finished the drill quickly and easily, breaking up the fight without any difficulty or mishap whatsoever (other than an occasional bash in the face from one of the Megadroids.) She didn't even have to use any of her weapons or her transformational abilities. Instead, she simply gave the two Megadroids a good royal smackdown, easily subduing them both in quick succession, and hurling them off in opposite directions with swift kicks to their respective bottoms, and that was that. The drill was so easy in fact, that it was even kind of fun in a way; almost like a larger-sized version of the Rockem Sockem Robots game she sometimes played with Tuck.

 _At least it's not another 'destroy-a-planet-sized-asteroid' drill or something!_ she thought. _I'm so tired of those… They're so easy now, they're not even fun anymore…_

The next drill proved to be much more challenging, however. It involved a back-alley brawl between two rival gangs of six-foot-tall, 300-pound, 4-armed Sumo Wrestler Hamsters. Jenny had an extremely difficult time with these, as they turned out to be tough, aggressive, surprisingly lithe and limber, and _very_ hard to grab a hold of (and all their extra arms didn't exactly make things any easier, either.) And, as she quickly discovered, they could really take a punch, too—easily bearing nearly the full brunt of a punch with her greatly-scaled-down strength without even blinking. And as if all that weren't enough, they were also incredibly _stubborn_ and _tenacious!_ Every time Jenny knocked or threw one to the ground, it immediately bobbed right back up again like a round-bottomed doll, almost as though it was doing it on purpose, just to annoy her. Many times, after knocking or throwing one down, Jenny found herself yelling at it in frustration: _"You stay down this time!"_

The Sumo Hamsters also worked as tag-teams, too. The first time Jenny grappled with a pair of them, all the others from _both_ gangs immediately charged in from all sides, surrounding her, grabbing hold and trying to pull her down to the ground and piling on. She had to pry them off, one by one, throwing and flinging them to her left and right, only to have them all bob right up again and charge right back at her with a vengeance, again and again, without letup.

 _Cripes!_ Jenny thought. _What's with these guys? Don't_ _they_ _ever give up?_

Eventually however, Jenny finally managed beat them all back, although it took quite some time. Through not-inconsiderable tenacity of her own, coupled with sheer dogged determination, she out-wrestled, threw down and body-slammed each and every Sumo Hamster, one at a time, piling them all on top of one another against a nearby brick wall. Finally, she was left with only two left: the leaders of each gang. With a final, irritated sigh, she grabbed both by the scruffs of their necks and banged their heads together, knocking them both out cold.

 _Finally!_ She thought as the drill ended. _That took longer than it was supposed to! **Whew!** What a work-out!_

But the Sumo Wrestler Hamster drill was a mere warm-up to the one that followed however, which was not only much more difficult, it was even downright intimidating. For this one, she faced a giant, multi-headed steel-and-titanium Cybernetic Hydra, over two stories tall. Each of its many heads could move and strike with lightning-swiftness, their jaws armed with row upon row of razor-sharp chromium teeth, and were capable of spewing both acetylene flame and hydrofluoric acid.

 _Ohhhhhhh, cripes…!_ Jenny thought as she gazed up at the immense, frightening creature, her pupils shrinking to tiny pinholes. _This isn't gonna be so easy…!_

The Hydra took a step closer to her, then another, and another, all of its long-necked heads bobbing, weaving and lashing at her like gigantic, deadly serpents.

 _Crikey, how many heads does that thing_ _have_ _?!_ She wondered. _I can't even tell! If only those stupid heads would just hold still for a moment and quit moving around, I could get an exact count!_

This opponent, she realized, was definitely not to be trifled with. Vicious, aggressive, and with its immense size, swiftness, and formidable weaponry, it would take only one lucky shot to mean instant 'game over' for her—whether in a simulated drill or, she thought grimly, a real-life situation.

 _That thing's gotta be put down and put down_ _fast_ _!_ She decided as she fired up her rockets and took to the air, lunging straight for the monster like a guided missile, fists clenched and ready for action.

The trouble was, subduing the Hydra turned out to be no easy task. Striking a direct hit of _any_ kind turned out to be almost impossible in fact, as the Hydra ducked and dodged virtually every punch or kick Jenny threw at it, or blocked or countered it with a stream of acid or a long tongue of acetylene flame. And each time the Hydra struck, it came alarmingly closer and closer to reaching its mark. So far, Jenny managed to avoid sustaining any direct hits, but she'd had several close-calls— _too_ many, in fact. She only hoped her creator hadn't noticed just _how_ close she'd come…

Nevertheless, she charged the Hydra again and again, attacking from all angles and directions, both from the air and the ground, throwing punch after punch and kick after kick. But none of them connected; the Hydra still continued to dodge and duck every single one.

" _Hold still!"_ Jenny cried in frustration. _"Hold still, you stupid thing!"_

She then tried firing her rockets, missiles, laser guns, plasma-cannons and just about every other weapon she had in her personal arsenal. But the Hydra's multiple, constantly-moving heads made it extremely difficult for her to track and target her weapons, and when she did fire a shot, the Hydra simply ducked or dodged out of its path. Consequently, Jenny only managed to score one or two direct hits out of dozens and dozens of misses.

Finally, she managed to slip in close at one point and land a lucky punch to one of the Hydra's heads, a good, solid, crunching blow to its jaw, knocking it out. But the moment she did, two more heads immediately popped up out of nowhere to take its place.

"Oh, come on!" she cried, dismayed. "You gotta be kidding me!"

One of the newly-sprouted heads struck at her, and she countered with a swift right cross to its jaw, knocking it out as well.

This time, _three_ new heads popped up to take its place!

"Oh, come _on!"_ Jenny cried again. "This is ridiculous! I feel like I'm playing 'Whack-A-Mole, only it's not fun!'"

All four of the newly-sprouted heads immediately lunged at her, their jaws snapping and spewing acid and acetylene flame, all the other Hydra-heads soon joining in.

Jenny managed to just narrowly avoid at the last second a stream of acid shooting straight toward her left ankle, high-kicking up and out of its path in a desperate, mid-air back flip. She then banked out and away from the Hydra in a long, curving arc, to a position where she could observe it from a safe distance, and evaluate its many strengths and few apparent weaknesses.

 _Okay…okay…_ she thought as she hovered in mid-air, plotting her next move. _A direct assault is definitely not gonna work… What now…?_

She thought hard, applying the full power of her Positronic brain to the task. In a flash, an idea came to her.

 _I got it!_ She thought. _Number 726! The ol' Confoozle Bamboozle Play!_

With that, she fired up her rockets and charged the Hydra directly once again. But at the last split-second before striking, she swerved off to one side and began circling the Hydra, its many heads instinctively trying to follow and track her. She fired up her afterburners, increasing her velocity to near-supersonic speed, orbiting the Hydra even faster with every revolution, again and again, constantly changing the angle and trajectory of her flight-path as she flew.

The Hydra soon became dizzy from trying to follow Jenny's erratic and confusing flying pattern, and it lashed out blindly at her, its jaws snapping and spewing flame and acid, but missing strike after strike. In moments, the monster was reduced to a state of dizzy, disoriented confusion, its acid and acetylene weapons depleted, their reserves wasted on the countless, futile missed shots at the maddening blue-and-white figure flying taunting rings around it.

Jenny glanced down to note the results of her strategy. _It's working!_ She thought with a smile. _Now to pick up the pace!_

With that, she increased her speed even more, to a now-earsplitting level, moving in closer and closer to the Hydra with every orbit. Occasionally, when she managed to get in close enough, she delivered a quick poke here or a swift kick there, not enough to inflict any significant damage, but rather to further annoy and infuriate her opponent.

The strategy worked. They Hydra, now even _more_ enraged and thrown off-balance by its anger, lashed and snapped furiously but blindly at her, its many elongated necks soon becoming hopelessly tangled with one another, like one gigantic, massively snarled fishing-line.

With the Hydra thus reduced to a state of hopelessly tangled, snarling, frustrated fury and confusion, Jenny followed up with a soaring arc directly over its top, looping around behind it, then shooting up from below and between its legs to deliver a sharp, driving blow deep into its soft underbelly. The Hydra immediately stiffened as it experienced the cybernetic equivalent of having the wind knocked out of it, wobbled unsteadily on its heels for a moment or two, then toppled over like a ten-pin with a thundering crash, out cold and down for the count.

Her opponent defeated at last, Jenny gently settled back down onto the ground again, where she took a moment to rest, re-gather her wits and regain her strength.

 _That…_ she thought in weary triumph, _was not fun…! Cripes, if this is only a drill, what will the real thing be like when the Mega Improbability finally does hit…?_

But as challenging and intimidating as the Cyber Hydra drill was, it paled in comparison to the one which followed, which turned out to be an absolute nightmare: the _Octo-Robo-Ninja_ program. For this drill, Jenny had to face a dozen 12-foot-long robotic Ninja squids, each of which came equipped with eight coiled-steel tentacles, and each tentacle armed with a set of saw-toothed-edged chromium/titanium pincers at the tip.

 _Terrific…!_ She thought with a sinking feeling in the pit of her cold-fusion reactor-core, as she eyed the fearsome creatures surrounding her in a semicircle.

This drill was, by far, the toughest drill Jenny had faced the entire week. Try as she might, she just couldn't seem to make any headway against the Octo-Ninjas at all. They were not only swift, strong and vicious, they were also nearly silent as well, making little more than a whisper-soft metallic _whooshing_ sound as they moved, audible only if she happened to be standing right next to one in near-total silence. And their tentacles proved to be formidable weapons, too. Like dozens of coiled-steel snakes whipping and lashing at her from all directions, the tentacles seemed to be _everywhere,_ surrounding and striking blows at her from every angle and direction, and threatening to ensnare her in their grasp any second. Like the Cyber Hydra's heads, the Squids seemed to be in constant motion, their tentacles lashing around continuously, making them nearly impossible to track, block or deflect. Time and again, Jenny was caught off-guard by them, taking countless, near-disabling strikes without managing to block them or deliver any counter-strikes of her own.

One particularly sharp, slicing blow lashed her hard across the temple, momentarily stunning her and sending her reeling to the ground. Before she even had a chance to recover, the Octo-Ninja lunged at her, followed by another and another. In seconds, the entire pack surrounded her, completely ensnaring her from her neck to her ankles in the crushing grip of their tentacles, the saw-toothed pincers snapping terrifyingly close to her face. Only through the application of sheer, brute force and bulldog determination was she able to pry off the tentacles with her bare hands, one by one, until at last she had broken free of all of them.

Once free, Jenny immediately went right back on the attack, lunging at the Ninja Squids, trying again and again to fight them off, in groups and one at a time. She threw countless punches and kicks, and fired her lasers and rockets, but none of the punches or kicks connected, and nearly all of her shots wildly missed their targets. The Ninja Squids were simply too swift, too unpredictable in their movements, easily dodging out the path of every punch or kick thrown, every shot fired, causing her to waste increasing amounts of both energy and ammunition.

 _Nothing_ seemed to be working. Jenny was clearly losing this match, a sensation she wasn't used to, and which she didn't like in the slightest. She became increasingly frustrated and aggravated as she continued to lose ground, taking blow after blow and strike after strike, getting thoroughly battered from all sides, and losing more and more points as the drill went on.

Even though she was never in any actual physical danger during the drill, her dismal score indicated an outcome that, if it were a real-life situation, would be fatal for her, a fact of which she was all too well aware. And, of course, not only was Jenny aware of it, her creator was, too.

And not only was Jenny losing points, she also began to lose her self-confidence as well. _I don't get it, I don't get it!_ She thought in growing, frustrated dismay. _Normally I'd be able to wipe the street with these bozos, no problem! Now I'm getting my butt kicked! What the heck is going on here? Have I lost my punch or something?_

At the conclusion of the drill (which ended in a humiliating defeat for Jenny), Dr. Wakeman drew a deep breath, sighed and said, "All right… Let's try that again… Computer, stop program. Save data and reset." She paused a moment with another deep breath, then said, "Commence drill."

As directed, the holochamber reset itself to the beginning of the drill, and restarted. But Jenny didn't do any better the second time than she had on the first. She continued to sustain heavy blows from the Ninja Squids as they surrounded and pummeled her from all sides, without managing to return a single counter punch or kick or on-target shot of her own. She was losing points at an alarming rate, and in only a few short minutes, the drill was over, ending in another ego-crushing loss.

Dr. Wakeman regarded the result in grim silence for a moment, then reran the drill twice more. But Jenny's performance still didn't improve. In fact, after the third run-through, she began to get progressively _worse._

After the fifth run-through (which ended with Jenny taking a sharp, debilitating jab to her belly-button bolt, which doubled her over and sent her sprawling across the floor on her bottom) Dr. Wakeman sighed and gave the verbal command, "Computer, stop program. Save data and reset."

The walls of the holochamber momentarily flashed to an ashen grey, then returned to the darkened city-streets of the program's background.

With as much dignity as she could muster, Jenny rose unsteadily from her awkward, seated position on the floor and regained her feet. She felt like such a rank amateur. She hadn't done well, she knew, and it frustrated her, but what could she do? Those stupid Octo-Ninjas were _tough!_

She watched her creator scratching away with a pencil and some papers on a clipboard, recording her performance results and making addition notes. Dr. Wakeman remained absolutely silent the entire time, but it was obvious from her grim expression that she wasn't pleased.

When the silence became unbearable, Jenny finally spoke up. "Well?" she said. "Say it! I mean, I assume were going to run through it again, right? But just how bad is it?"

Dr. Wakeman remained silent for another long moment before she replied, "Well…" She used her unmistakable 'patient' tone that invariably signaled the worst. "It's not good. As a matter of fact, it's not good at all." She shook her head. "I know this last program is a bit more difficult than the others, and you're not used to it, but even so… I had hoped that, now that you've gone through it a few times, your performance would start to improve, but…so far, it hasn't. There's been no improvement in your performance at all. It's still below par." She paused. _"Considerably_ below, in fact. And your performance on the Hydra drill…" she paused with a discouraging shake of her head. "Could have been better as well."

For once, Jenny accepted the bad news with neither argument nor protest. Instead, she merely nodded and said, "Well…okay. We have time. We'll just…" she shrugged. "We'll just…do it again, that's all. And again and again. And _again,_ if necessary, until I get it _right."_

She assumed her fighting stance, head thrust forward, legs apart, clenched fists raised in a defensive pose. "Okay, I'm ready. Let's go. Run the program."

"No, no, wait a moment…" Dr. Wakeman said, still scanning the notes on her clipboard, her brows furrowed.

"What for?" Jenny said, lowering her fists to her sides and standing straight up again. "Come on, come on, come on! Let's _go!"_ She clapped her hands, as if preparing to catch a football, then re-clenched her fists. "Let's get back to the drill."

"No, no, wait," Dr. Wakeman said. "Computer, stop program. Close." The simulated cityscape vanished, changing back to the ashen-grey, grid-lined walls of the holochamber. "XJ-9, sit down." She said, motioning with her hand. "Please."

Jenny looked around. "Where?" she said. "There's no place for me to sit."

"Over there. In the corner." She pointed. "The reinforced-steel chair. Pull it over here and sit down. Please."

Jenny hesitated for a moment, then with an exaggerated sigh and a dramatic roll of her eyes, she obeyed, walking over to the steel-and-titanium stool in the corner and dragging it back to her creator, where she sat down to face her.

Dr. Wakeman resumed her study of the notes for another few moments, then lowered the clipboard and looked at her robotic daughter directly. "XJ-9," she began softly; then, switching to her daughter's preferred chosen name, she said, "Jenny…is there something on your mind these days?"

Jenny started to open her mouth, then closed it again and shook her head. "No…no…" she said, a little too hastily. "Everything's fine. I'm fine, everything's fine. So, come on. Let's go." She started to get up.

"No…no…everything is _not_ fine. When there's this much of a drop-off in your performance-levels, there must be a reason for it. Now, we just ran a quick diagnostic on you this morning, and everything checked out. Including the _conscience program…"_ In spite of herself, she couldn't help emphasizing the term. "So we know that nothing _technical_ can be the reason." She paused and silently scrutinized her daughter. "Which leaves a myriad of other, non-technical possibilities. Including emotional stress-factors."

She paused again, allowing the words to sink in. Creator and robot regarded each other in silence for several moments longer, Dr. Wakeman's eyes seeming to penetrate to Jenny's very thoughts. Jenny finally looked away, unable to bear the piercing gaze for a moment longer.

"So...to save us both a lot of time…" Dr. Wakeman went on gently. "Why don't you just tell me? And be honest. _Is_ there something on your mind?"

"No, no, everything's fine, I told you," Jenny shook her head, still unable to meet her creator's eyes.

"Jenny, I thought that, after our…recent experience with the conscience-program, we had a new understanding between us; that if you had something on your mind, something that was troubling you, that you would come to me immediately, at any time, and we would discuss it. That we would talk it over, and try to solve it, together…" She paused. "Isn't that what we agreed?"

"Well…yeah…" Jenny said, evasively. "But…but really, mom, it's…it's nothing… Nothing's bothering me…" she utterly failed to sound convincing.

"Isn't there…?"

At last, Jenny raised her eyes and looked at her creator directly. "Well…" She said, then paused. "I mean…nothing besides the usual high school stress, that is..." She hesitated, wincing at the memory of the events of the past several days. "I've just…been having a rough week, that's all."

"Is there anything in particular that you'd care to talk about?" Dr. Wakeman asked gently.

The soft tone of her voice caught Jenny a bit off-guard, and after only a moment's hesitation, she saw no point in concealing the truth any longer.

She sighed and lowered her eyes again. "Well…it's just…" she began, haltingly. "It's…it's Sheldon…" her voice sounded pitifully small and vulnerable as she spoke the name.

"I suspected as much," Dr. Wakeman said softly. "All right, then. So what's the trouble now? What has he done this time? Hmm?"

"Well…it's not what he's _done,_ it's what he's _not_ doing."

Dr. Wakeman blinked and shook her head in puzzlement. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Well, you remember how I said that, from now on, I was going to try to make it all up to him, and be a friend to him? A _real_ friend? And not make him feel left out or feel like I take him for granted? And let him know that I appreciate him and all he does for me, and everything? Well, I've been _doing_ that! Or at least I've been _trying_ to. All week long, I've been _trying_ to be extra-friendly to him, but…but he doesn't even… I mean, he's just…he's like…" Her voice trailed off as words suddenly failed her, and she found herself unable to quite describe the subtle difference she'd detected in Sheldon's behavior over the past week. "I don't know, I can't put my finger on it exactly, but there's just something… _different_ about him these days. It's like he's so…so _cold_ and _distant,_ like he doesn't…want to see me or talk to me anymore or _anything."_

"You mean you think he's still upset with you?" Dr. Wakeman asked.

"No…no, not exactly." Jenny replied. "He's not exactly angry… And he doesn't seem to be scared of me anymore, either. He's not exactly _avoiding_ me, but…he's not really _friendly_ to me anymore, either. Not like he used to be. Instead, he's like…" She shook her head. "He's almost… _indifferent_ to me now, almost like we're total strangers; like we were never even friends in the first place. He doesn't—" She hesitated, then dropped her voice so low that Dr. Wakeman could barely hear it. "I…I just don't think he likes me anymore…"

There it was, out in the open, expressed out loud for the first time.

Dr. Wakeman took in the words in silence for a moment, mulling them over before she replied, gently, "Well…you remember I said that it might take awhile yet before you and he could be…" She paused, searching for just the right words. "Back on fully friendly terms again? And remember I advised you to try to be patient with him in the meantime?"

"Well, _yeah,_ Mom, I know, but I've _been_ patient!" Jenny said with increasing agitation. "I've been patient with him all week long now, and it's not getting me anywhere! I keep trying and trying and _trying_ to be nice and friendly to him, but he just won't respond! Instead, he keeps giving me the cold shoulder or the silent treatment, or finding excuses to dodge me in the hallways!" She paused, folding her arms and lowering her eyes in a frown. "He won't even answer my emails!" she added in a low, grumbling tone.

"Well, perhaps—"

"I don't get it! I just don't _get_ it!" Jenny fumed with an exasperated sigh. "Doesn't he know he's supposed to like me?"

"Well, have you spoken to him about any of this?" Dr. Wakeman asked. "Perhaps he has things on his mind, too. You know, some personal issues that don't involve you. After all, that is a possibility too. Other people _do_ have personal issues of their own, you know; problems and concerns that have nothing whatsoever to do with you." Her words, while somewhat blunt, were truthful, and her point was valid.

"I _did_ talk to him!" Jenny countered. "I asked him flat out a couple of times if anything was bothering him, and he just keeps saying 'No, no, everything's fine,' and that's about all I can get out of him. That and the fact that he's grounded. That's about it; then he clams right up."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute. Did you say he's been _grounded?"_ Dr. Wakeman asked, her eyebrows raised.

"Yeah…didn't I tell you 'bout that?"

Dr. Wakeman shook her head.

"Oh…well…he _is._ 'Cuz he cut school last week."

"Oh… Well, that's probably it, then!" Dr. Wakeman exclaimed, amazed that the obvious explanation had somehow eluded her daughter. "If his manner is different lately, then that is most likely the reason for it."

"Yeah, well, I notice he seems to be friendly to just about everybody _else!"_ Jenny shot back sharply. "Just not to _me! I'm_ the only one he gives the cold shoulder to! And I _still_ think it's 'cuz he's either still mad at me, or 'cuz he blames me for cutting school that day, or… _something!"_

"Oh, XJ-9, that's absurd!"

"No, it's not! I even asked him about it, and he denied it, of course, but deep down inside, I think he blames me for cutting school that day! And maybe he's right! The whole thing was my fault, after all."

Dr. Wakeman sighed; she _really_ didn't want to have to go down this same type of road again with her robotic daughter. "XJ-9… Jenny…" she said, trying to remain patient. "Let's be reasonable about this. Activate your logic-circuits, and please look at things rationally. Now, looking at it logically, there is simply no conceivable way that Sheldon could possibly blame you for his being grounded. That simply doesn't make sense."

"But it _does_ make sense!" Jenny exclaimed. "It's because he was so scared of me and upset with me that day that he bailed out of school early, just to get away from me! That's why I think he's _still_ mad at me, that's why his _mom_ is mad at me, and—"

"His mom?" Dr. Wakeman interrupted, momentarily lost. "Wait a minute, I'm confused. What does his mother have to do with any of this?"

Jenny's head snapped up. _Oops!_ She thought, as she involuntarily raised her hand to her mouth, as if to belatedly retract the words. She hadn't intended to mention any of the conversation she'd had with Sheldon's mother, but somehow, it had just slipped out.

"Um…nothing…nothing…" she struggled to dissemble.

"XJ-9…!" Dr. Wakeman's tone sharpened, the way it always did when she suspected Jenny was trying to conceal something. "You said something about Sheldon's mother. And I asked you a question. What does she have to do with any of this?"

Jenny stared blankly at her creator, trying desperately—and failing utterly—to adopt an 'innocent' look. "Did…did I say that?" she said, feebly.

"Yes, you did."

"I…I didn't mean anything by it."

"XJ-9…for the last time…" Dr. Wakeman's voice tightened, a clear sign of her diminishing patience. "What does Sheldon's mother have to do with this? Did she speak to you?" She paused, waiting for an answer that was clearly not forthcoming. "Well…? Did she…? And if so… _when?_ And what was said? Be specific."

Jenny hesitated and stalled for about as long as she felt she could safely get away with, until she realized she had no choice but to tell the whole truth—however painful and embarrassing it might be. "I…I didn't want you to know about it," she said in a pitifully-tiny voice.

"Know about _what,_ exactly?" Dr. Wakeman asked in a tone of cold steel, her gaze narrowing.

Jenny sighed. "Mom, I really wish you wouldn't make a big thing out of it—"

"Make a big thing out of _what?"_ Dr. Wakeman demanded, her volume rising. "All right, now I _really_ want you to tell me!"

"All right, all right! But _please_ don't make a big Federal case out of it, okay? Mom? Please? Cripes, I've already caused enough grief in his life as it is! I don't want to cause another big blow-up, with you and his mom getting mixed up in it, too!"

Dr. Wakeman sighed, trying to remain patient. "All right," she conceded in a quieter, more restrained tone. "I won't—as you put it—'make a big thing out of it.' But I would _still_ like you to tell me. Now, for the last time: Did you speak with Sheldon's mother? And if so, when? And what exactly was said?"

"Well…it was a few days ago," Jenny began. "Sunday; the day after you told me about the… _big mega-improbable_ thingy that your computer program predicted. Anyway, I didn't see Sheldon anywhere all weekend long, so on the way home from the park, I stopped by his house to see if he was okay, in case he might be sick or something. And when I rang the bell, his mom answered, and…"

From there, Jenny recounted, in detail, every word that was exchanged between her and Sheldon's mother, including the not-so-veiled threat that had been made, Jenny's total recall having recorded every word, phrase and nuance of the entire conversation with 100% accuracy.

"She actually said that?" Dr. Wakeman said, aghast, when Jenny had concluded her narrative. "That she'd 'take you apart?'"

Jenny nodded. "Those were her exact words."

"Are you sure you're not exaggerating, XJ-9?" she asked.

"No, I'm _not_ exaggerating, Mom!" Jenny replied, slightly annoyed. "That's what she _said!"_

Dr. Wakeman exhaled with a heavy sigh, leaning back in her chair. "Well, well, well…" she said quietly. "This does complicate matters…"

"I'll say it does!" Jenny agreed.

"I think I'd better give her a call then, and see if I can't get this matter straightened out somehow," Dr. Wakeman said. "This evening, or tomorrow, perhaps—"

"No, no, Mom, _please!"_ Jenny cried. "I wish you wouldn't!"

"But Sweetie, if she's making threats against you, then I really think—"

"Mom, I _really_ wish you wouldn't interfere!" Jenny pleaded. "See, _this_ is why I didn't want to say anything! 'Cuz I just knew that if I did, you'd go and make a big thing out of it, and—"

"XJ-9, if Sheldon's mother is threatening to take you apart, then it _is_ 'a big thing!' As should be obvious to you!"

Jenny was struck silent by the simple truth of her creator's words; then sighed resignedly. "I…I suppose," she finally conceded. "But…on the other hand, I can't really blame her, either! I mean, if I had a son and I thought somebody was picking on him, I'd probably want to tear them limb from limb, too!" She paused. "But…you're right, it _does_ complicate things. Because not only do I have to somehow get back on Sheldon's good side, I also want to somehow get his _mom_ to like me too, and that's going to be a whole lot tougher!"

"Yes, yes, that's no doubt true…" Dr. Wakeman nodded in agreement. "Well, perhaps a good place to start might be to simply apologize to her, just as you did to Sheldon. Simply tell her that you're very sorry for what you did to Sheldon, admit that you were wrong, and promise that you'll never do it again."

"Do you really think that'll work?"

"Well, it might. It's a good place to start, at any rate. And it's certainly worth a try…isn't it?"

"Yeah…I guess…" She shrugged. "Somehow, though, I get the feeling she's not going to believe me… _or_ be any more forgiving than…than…" She didn't go on, but her meaning was obvious.

"Well, she might," Dr. Wakeman replied. "In time, she just might. You ought to give her a chance, at least."

"I know…I know…" Jenny said. "I will…" She nodded, then fell silent.

Dr. Wakeman studied her robotic creation closely. By now, she had developed certain instincts about Jenny's behavior, which often revealed certain clues about what she might be thinking or feeling at a given moment. And Dr. Wakeman now had the uncanny feeling that there was still something more on Jenny's mind, something that was left unsaid. "Is there…something else…?" she asked.

"Well, it's just…" Jenny hesitated, then pressed on, her voice tight. "This whole thing with Sheldon's got me so confused... What I'm thinking…what I'm feeling… I'm just trying to make sense of it all. I mean, I never really used to like being around him that much before—especially since he always seemed to be hanging around me all the time, always getting in the way! And when he _wasn't_ around, I never really thought about him much at all. But now…" She shrugged. "Now…I can't seem to _stop_ thinking about him!"

"Well, they do say that 'absence makes the heart grow fonder.'" Dr. Wakeman pointed out. "Perhaps that is the dynamic at work here."

"I guess…maybe… I suppose it's possible…" Jenny replied with a shrug. "But I'm also wondering if…maybe there's more to it than that."

"How so?"

Jenny hesitated again, and looked at her creator. Her thoughts and feelings on the subject were so private, so personal, that she'd never before shared them with _anyone_. And yet…something told her that if there was one person in all the world in whom she could confide anything, it was her own creator. And so, with some hesitancy and lingering reservation, she proceeded to share some of her inmost thoughts and feelings of recent days.

"Well…the thing is" she began. "I'm…beginning to feel…differently lately…about a _lot_ of things…for a lot of different reasons… See, at one time, I used to think… That is, I used to sometimes wonder if…maybe…Brad and I might…someday…" She tailed off. "But now…I don't know. Now…I just…don't think that's going to happen. I mean, I still like Brad a lot, I still think of him as my best friend and everything, but…well…it's… _different_ now. Now I kind of think of him more as…well, almost more like a brother than…" She hesitated. "Anyway…the way I feel now…I'm now beginning to wonder if maybe in some nutty, screwball way…maybe _Sheldon_ might really be the one for me instead…"

She caught the gentle, subdued smile on her creator's face at her words, and immediately covered her face with her hands, as though embarrassed at having expressed the thought out loud for the first time. When she pulled her hands away, the LEDs beneath her cheeks glowed the bright, vibrant blue of an embarrassed blush.

"I know, right?" she said with a nervous smile, and striving for a 'light' tone, as though she were making a casual, joking remark, even though they both knew she was in dead earnest. "If anyone had told me two years ago—or even two _months_ ago!—that one day I'd feel like this about Sheldon, I'd have said they were crazy! I mean, just _look_ at—" she broke off abruptly, clearly embarrassed by the words she was about to speak. "I mean…okay, I admit it, at one time, I was…well, kind of put off by his _looks."_ She paused and shrugged. "Stupid, huh? I mean, imagine: _me,_ judging somebody because of the way they look! But…it's true. I admit it… I judged him the same way I always judged other guys: by the way he _looks."_ She recalled her past infatuation with such boys as Don Prima, Sebastian, Shane, Kenny the boy-robot, or Silver Shell; infatuations based solely upon their respective physical appearance and superficial attractiveness to her, but with not much of substance beneath the surface, as things turned out.

"But now…" she went on. "Now, for some reason, looks just…don't seem to matter that much to me anymore. Instead, what really matters to me now is…what a person's got on the _inside_ …you know what I mean?"

"Yes…I think I do," Dr. Wakeman replied.

"And with Sheldon, I can now see a whole lot of qualities in him that I never really noticed or thought about much before," Jenny went on. "Important qualities, valuable qualities…things that really _matter."_

"Yes, yes…" Dr. Wakeman nodded. "Could you elaborate more on what these qualities are?"

"Well, you know, like…like stuff we talked about before," Jenny replied. "Things like…" she paused, searching for just the right words. "Loyalty… Faithfulness… Devotion… Smarts… _Courage… Bravery!"_ She and her creator exchanged a quick, meaningful glance that indicated they were both thinking of the same thing: Sheldon's role in her rescue from Cluster Prime. "But even besides that, there's something else about him, too," she added quietly. "Something even _more_ important."

"Which is…?"

"Well…" Jenny paused. "He's… _kind._ I mean, he's _never_ called me names, or said any of the mean things that other kids say to me all the time. Never! Even when he was really, really angry at me! No matter how angry he ever got, he _never_ called me names!" She paused thoughtfully, then went on. "I mean, I know it's not a big thing, not for someone who's battled giant monsters and gone up against Cluster armadas and stuff, but still, it means a lot to me! And he never did anything really mean to me, either. Even with all the really _dumb_ things he's done, he _never_ did any of them just to be mean, like…like some of the other kids do." She shuddered, recalling the nonstop series of cruel pranks she'd endured from other students at Tremorton High over the years.

Dr. Wakeman listened patiently, paying attention not only to her robotic daughter's words, but also to the nonverbal signs of communication she displayed as well. Dr. Wakeman couldn't help but marvel at just how much her robotic daughter had grown and developed emotionally in only a few short years, now displaying a range, depth and complexity that was truly remarkable. She only hoped that she was up to the task of providing the kind of support and guidance that she knew Jenny would need through difficult times such as this, both now and in the future.

Jenny, for her part, was grateful that she was able to talk freely and openly to her creator this way, and share the things on her mind that had been troubling her in recent days. Though it wasn't always easy for her to do so, she had to admit that she almost always felt better afterward, and she appreciated her creator's efforts to be patient, sympathetic and understanding.

And yet…there was still something else that Jenny _didn't_ mention to her creator, something about Sheldon that she also found appealing, in addition to his other good qualities, something new and different: his recent change in _attitude._ No longer the annoyingly-clingy and needy nerd that he'd been in the past, Sheldon now seemed to possess a level of self-confidence, self-assuredness and a kind of inner strength which Jenny had never seen in him before. Whether it was a result of some of his recent experiences with her, or was the natural result of the normal maturation process, Jenny didn't know. All she _did_ know was that she _liked_ it.

And the more she thought about it, the more she found herself _missing_ him; wanting to be _near_ him. Wanting… _him._

It was so ironic, she thought, and so frustrating, the way things seemed to be turning out: right when she found herself wanting to be near him, _he_ now seemed to be pulling away from _her,_ and seemed to be growing increasingly cold and distant in the process as well.

The dilemma frustrated her even as it confused and saddened her.

"Anyway…" she shrugged and went on. "Now that I know what's really important to me, the more I want to—" She stopped short, as though afraid of going further. She continued, but in a slightly altered tone. "I…mean, I want to…spend more time with him now, doing the kinds of fun things he always wanted to do with me, but that I never…wanted to bother with before." She paused, and lowered her voice. "Things that…I now wish we _had_ done together, when I had the chance." She paused with a wistful sigh. "But…now that I _really_ messed things up with him good this time, the question is, what can I do about it _now?"_

"Well," Dr. Wakeman said, trying to adopt an 'encouraging' tone. "There's no reason to lose hope. After all, things could always change for the better, perhaps even when you least expect them to. Look at the situation in our own family, for instance. I certainly never would have believed in a thousand years that I would _ever_ reconcile with my sister, Wisteria. And yet I did! Thanks to you, of course, and your cousin Glen," she smiled. "Thanks to your efforts, Wisteria and I now get along better than we have in years! We haven't gotten along this well since we were children! We even write to each other regularly now—not that it's all that easy to stay in touch with her, since she's always on the move, but still! And whenever she's in town, she's always welcome to stay with us for as long as she likes, at any time. We're real sisters again, and I have you to thank for it!" Dr. Wakeman's smile widened, and Jenny blushed.

"Aw gee, Mom!" she said with a broad grin. "You're embarrassing me!"

"All right, all right," Dr. Wakeman chuckled, with an amused wave of her hand. "What I'm trying to say is this: if you could even manage to win over your Aunt Wisteria—who, you may recall, wasn't exactly thrilled to have a robot for a niece!—then you _certainly_ have a good chance of winning back Sheldon, who was, after all, _quite_ fond of you, once upon a time!" She smiled warmly, and Jenny smiled demurely in response, her blush deepening.

"So just give him a little more time," Dr. Wakeman went on. "Continue to be patient with him, friendly and understanding, and I'm sure that, in time, he'll be friendly to you in return, just as he always has in the past."

Jenny's smile lasted only a fleeting moment longer, before it gradually dissolved once again into a look of wistful sadness.

"I'll try," she said. "But sometimes… Oh, I don't know, sometimes, I get the feeling that it's already too late. That no matter _what_ I do, I'm _never_ going to get him to… _like_ me again…the way he used to…" she hesitated. "Sometimes…when he… _looks_ at me now, I almost feel like…" she abruptly broke off with a shudder.

"Like what?"

"Forget it, it's…" she shook her head, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "It's nothing, it's… _stupid."_

" _What's_ 'stupid?' Tell me."

"No, no, it's dumb and silly and _stupid!_ And you're gonna think I'm dumb for even thinking of it!"

"Now, now, Jenny, don't be absurd. I'm not going to think that you're…'dumb.'" Dr. Wakeman winced at the word she never used. "So…what is it that you almost feel like sometimes?' Hmm…? Jenny…? Tell me what you're thinking… Tell me what you're feeling… Talk to me…" Dr. Wakeman prompted, gently coaxing her creation to openly communicate with her.

"Well…it's just…" Jenny began, then paused with a deep sigh. "It's…something that Brad once told me about that happened a long time ago; a few years before he and I ever even met. It was when Tuck was real little, like maybe four years old or so, and he had this one special favorite toy that he really, really liked, a _Ranger Ralph_ action-figure. From what Brad told me, Tuck was really attached to that toy. Everywhere Tuck went, _Ranger Ralph_ had to go with him. The two were inseparable. Whenever the family went out anywhere, whether it was dinner at a nice restaurant, or on a vacation-trip, or a weekend drive up to the lake, or to the mountains or something, Tuck had to bring his _Ranger Ralph_ action-figure with him or else he'd cry and put up a real fuss. And if he ever lost it, misplaced it or otherwise couldn't find it, he'd throwing a _real_ crying tantrum that would sometimes last for _hours,_ until somebody finally found it for him."

She paused, and Dr. Wakeman waited for a beat, then gently coaxed her to continue. "All right," she said. "Go on…"

"Well, one day, with no warning, and for no apparent reason, Tuck suddenly picked up his _Ranger Ralph_ toy, frowned at it real hard, like he was angry at it or something, and he said, _'I don't wanna play with you anymore!_ ' And he just threw it aside! Just like that! And he never played with it again after that. Ever!"

"Huh! How odd," Dr. Wakeman said. "Did he say why?"

"Nope; he never did. Brad and their parents asked him several times, but all he ever said was, 'I don't wanna play with him anymore! I don't _like_ him anymore!' And that was _it!_ He never went near it again, never even touched it! Brad and his parents tried everything to change his mind, but nothing did. Finally, I think they ended up giving the toy away to a charity-bin or selling it off at a garage-sale or something."

Dr. Wakeman blinked and sat in silence for another moment, before she replied, "Okay…but…I'm afraid I don't quite see what that has to do with—"

"Well…I know it sounds crazy and weird and stupid," Jenny explained. "But lately, I can't stop thinking about that story. In a nutty kind of way, I…kinda feel like that stupid toy that Tuck got tired of playing with! And I feel like maybe…maybe Sheldon kind of feels that way about me, too!" In spite of herself, Jenny's vocoder caught at the end, betraying the emotions underneath her words. "You know, like maybe he doesn't think of me as a person anymore; maybe he only thinks of me as just a big stupid toy that he lost interest in, that he doesn't want to play with anymore! Maybe…" She hesitated with a sob, and turned from her creator, so that she wouldn't see the tears filling her eyes. "Maybe…he _never_ thought of me as a person…! Maybe he _always_ thought of me as just a…a big stupid _toy_ that he wanted to play with…! And that's _all!"_ She choked back a sob at the very last.

"Oh Jenny, now that's just absurd! _Preposterous!_ Nobody thinks of you as 'just a big toy!' Least of all Sheldon, of all people, and you know it!"

"All right, so I'm being absurd!" Jenny cried. "But I can't help it! If you saw the way he's been looking at me lately—or _not_ looking at me!—you'd understand! Sometimes," she hesitated, then pressed ahead. "Sometimes…the way he looks at me now…I half-expect him to say: _'Go away, Jenny! I don't wanna play with you anymore!'"_ She closed her eyes and tears streamed down her cheeks, as she uttered the painful, imagined words.

Dr. Wakeman studied her robotic daughter closely, privately wondering—not for the first time, nor would it be the last—if equipping a robot with a set of emotions was such a good idea after all. For she realized—also not for the first time—that doing so meant that, sooner or later, those feelings were bound to be hurt. And now, apparently, was just such a time

"Jenny… Jenny _…_ " Dr. Wakeman said softly, soothingly. "Listen to yourself. Please. I mean, really listen to yourself. Listen to what you're saying. Now, regardless of how Sheldon may have been acting around you lately, do you _really_ believe that he could ever think of you as, in your words, 'just a big stupid toy'? Now, be honest."

Jenny looked deeply into her creator's eyes for a long time, then wiped her eyes and lowered her head. "No…no, I suppose not…" She replied with a sigh. "I know I'm probably just being stupid and ridiculous, but…I can't help it! That's what I _feel!_ And lately, I just can't put it out of my mind."

"Well…I think your worries in this regard are entirely unfounded, Sweetie. Trust me: _Nobody,_ but _nobody_ who really knows you could ever think of you as…" she hesitated, as the words were just as painful for her to speak as they were for Jenny. "As 'just a big toy.' _Least_ of all, Sheldon." She paused. "Now…if you think about it—and I mean really think about it carefully—you'll come to see this for yourself, and you'll know that it's true."

Jenny looked up to meet her creator's eyes and Dr. Wakeman smiled comfortingly to her. Creator and robot regarded each other in silence for several long moments, with Jenny taking comfort in her creator's nurturing smile, words and manner. Eventually, and in spite of herself, Jenny returned a smile of her own, though it required some effort.

"You have _friends!"_ Dr. Wakeman went on. _"Real_ friends, who think of you and care about you as a _person!_ And Sheldon would almost certainly have to be near the top of that list! He just…" she hesitated, searching for just the right words. "He just…may have temporarily forgotten it, that's all."

"I sure hope you're right Mom," Jenny replied with a wistful sigh as she lowered her head. "Because right now, the way I feel…I think I would do just about _anything_ to win back his friendship. _Anything!"_ She paused, then continued in a soft voice. "All I want is a second chance… That's all... Just a second chance... To go back…and do things differently…and do them _right_ this time!"

Suddenly, Jenny lifted her head and looked at her creator. She had a curious look to her face, which Dr. Wakeman found vaguely troubling, as she'd come to know that look all too well over the years. "Mom…?" Jenny asked. "Are you _sure_ I can't borrow that time-machine you've got stashed away in the basement?"

Dr. Wakeman sighed in exasperation. "No, XJ-9!"

"But Mom—!"

"We've been over this before, XJ-9, and the answer is still _no!_ Adamantly, emphatically, inflexibly, _no_ _!"_

"But I promise I'll be real careful with it!" Jenny pleaded. "And I _promise_ I'll give it right back once I'm finished with it!"

"XJ-9, you _can't!_ You just _can't!_ That time machine is not a toy! And time-travel is not something to be trifled with by amateurs in any case! For one thing, you could create a Time Paradox."

"A _what?"_ Jenny asked in bewilderment, as she was sure she'd never heard her creator use the term before.

"A Time Paradox. If you were to go back in time and meet the past version of yourself, for example, it would create a conflict within the existing timeline, which would violate the laws of Time. Doing so would be _disastrous!"_

"But—"

"And even if you didn't create a Time Paradox by meeting your past self," Dr. Wakeman went on, ignoring the brief interruption. "There are still other things to consider, other inherent risks involved in time travel. If you were to change one small element of the past—even just _one!—_ and it could even be the smallest, most minute detail you possibly imagine, and it could even be for what you believe is the best of all possible reasons, it would _still_ have a negative impact on the existing timeline. For a whole number of reasons I won't go into; reasons involving Quantum Physics, the Uncertainty Principle, Time-Stream fluctuations, Alternate Timelines, Altered Futures, The Law of Unintended Consequences…I could go on and on. The point is that any small change you make in the past could create terrible consequences in the future. Possibly even more disastrous than the Mega Improbability Event itself! Do you understand?"

"No."

Dr. Wakeman sighed. For a brief moment, she almost considered going into a lengthy and detailed explanation of the principle behind _"The Butterfly Effect,"_ but being fully acquainted with her robotic daughter's notoriously-short attention-span, she decided against it.

Instead, she decided upon a more direct, even blunt approach. "Well then," she said. "Perhaps you'll understand this. You can't use the Time Machine because I don't _want_ you to! It is locked away in the vault, safely secured by a complex array of highly sophisticated, top-security anti-theft and anti-tampering devices, and there it shall remain! And that's _final!"_

Jenny mulled over her creator's words in silence for a moment, then lowered her head. "Yes, Mother," she said, accepting the final verdict on the matter, but with her arms folded and a disgruntled frown etched upon her face.

"Besides," Dr. Wakeman went on. "It doesn't even belong to me. As I've already told you, several times before, I'm merely…" she hesitated. "Taking care of it, for a friend of mine, until he…" she paused again. "Returns to reclaim it."

"Oh…yeah…" Jenny said. "That friend of yours, what's his name? That Doctor…"

"No, no, no, not him," Dr. Wakeman corrected, shaking her head. "The _other_ one, the one I knew even before that: Professor Wells."

"Oh…him…" Jenny replied. "I know who you mean now."

"Yes, _him,"_ Dr. Wakeman said sharply. "At any rate, he should return any day now to collect his time-machine, and be on his way with it, and that will be the end of the matter."

Jenny continued to sulk in silence, so Dr. Wakeman tried a different tack. "Now, I know you're disappointed," She spoke gently now, in marked contrast to her earlier, severe, 'scolding' tone. "And I know it must be tempting to try and use an artificial means such as a time machine to solve your personal problems. But really, Sweetie, do you really believe it's necessary to resort to such drastic measures? And do you really think it would be advisable to do so? Think about it. Speaking hypothetically, let us suppose that you _did_ use the time-machine to go back in time, to…well, _re-do_ certain things. And, just for the sake of argument, let us also suppose that you could do so without disrupting the existing natural time-line. What would you learn from the experience? Would you learn _anything?_ Would you learn the same lessons that you've learned from having experienced those events as they actually occurred? Would you have had cause to think about the same things and re-evaluate your personal priorities? Would you have gained the same insights, and arrived at the same conclusions as you have now?"

She paused, allowing Jenny to think about her words and consider their full implications. She went on:

"After all, it is possible—even likely—that you only have these thoughts and feelings about Sheldon now because of the self-examination you've undergone as a result of your—" She hesitated as she struggled to find suitable terms to address the still-sensitive topic. "Recent conflict with him. If that…unfortunate incident had never occurred, if it had been somehow blotted out from history, as you now apparently propose to do, then you likely wouldn't have gone through that same subsequent period of introspection, self-examination, and re-evaluation of priorities, so it's therefore highly unlikely that you would have arrived at the same conclusions that you have. And it's therefore unlikely that you would feel quite the same way about Sheldon that you do now. In fact, you'd probably still think of him more or less as you always have in the past: as simply a nuisance and a pest, nothing more."

Jenny's mouth dropped open, and she stared, stunned, at her creator. The words she'd been told were blunt, and they struck her at her very core, but the truth they contained could not be denied.

"But I just…" she struggled feebly to respond. "I just…want to go back and fix things, that's all. I just want to make Sheldon _happy!_ And…and make him _like_ me again, like he used to! Is that really so terrible?"

"There's nothing terrible about your _intentions,_ Sweetie," Dr. Wakeman replied. "Your intentions are certainly good, that isn't the question. But the fact is, as I told you once before when we discussed this subject, life simply doesn't come equipped with an 'Undo Key.' When we make mistakes in our personal lives, we can try our best to make up for them, try to make amends for them to the extent that we can, learn what life lessons we can from them, and try to apply those lessons in the future. That is the point. We _learn._ But if we were to fall into the habit of using a convenient artificial means—such as a _time machine!—_ to undo or correct our mistakes, in order to avoid the sometimes-painful lessons learned from them, then we'd likely never learn _anything._ We'd continue to make the same foolish mistakes over and over and over again, never learn anything, and likely never get anywhere in life." She paused, allowing her words to fully register. "Do you see what I'm getting at…Jenny?"

Jenny pondered her creator's explanation, and after a moment, she shrugged. "I…I guess so," she said with a sigh. "Basically, you want me to just forget about the time machine, right?"

"Well, yes, but more to the point—"

"And you think I should keep trying with Sheldon, right?"

"Well…" Dr. Wakeman drew a deep breath. "I just think that…you should continue trying the most basic things first—at least, for a while longer anyway—rather than resort to such drastic measures as using a…" she hesitated, then grinned a crooked smile as she finished. "A _time machine!"_ Both robot and creator laughed; it _did_ seem a pretty ridiculous idea, when viewed in this light.

"So yes, I would advise you to continue to be patient and friendly to him," Dr. Wakeman continued. "And I'm sure that, sooner or later, he'll get the idea and respond in kind, just as he always has before."

Jenny pondered her creator's words, trying to force herself to believe them. "But Mom…" she said, her all-too-brief smile now vanished. "What if you're _wrong?_ What if Sheldon really _doesn't_ like me anymore? At all? No matter what I do? No matter how patient or friendly I am to him? What if our friendship really _is_ over, for good? And there's _nothing_ I can do to fix it? What then?"

Dr. Wakeman fell silent and remained so for a very long time, as she considered her next words very carefully. This matter required delicate handling, she knew, and although she didn't want to have to mention certain things, she also knew that they must be brought up, at least as possibilities. "Well…Sweetie…" she began gently. "I hate to say this…but the unfortunate fact is that there are always going to be certain things in life that one simply cannot change or control. Regardless of what we might want. And it is possible that your friendship with Sheldon might be one of them."

" _But Mom!"_ Jenny protested with just a hint of a whining tone.

"Now, I'm not saying that your friendship with him is necessarily _over,"_ Dr. Wakeman hastened to clarify. "In my opinion, it's much too soon to arrive at that conclusion. But we have to at least consider certain possibilities, one of which is that your friendship with him may not ever be exactly as it was before. It may have…changed somewhat, as a result of recent events, in which case, things might never be quite the same between you as they once were."

"But it's _different_ now!" Jenny exclaimed insistently. "Because _I_ feel different about him now! I _want_ to be friends with him this time! I really, really _do!"_ Her pitch rose in intensity, heightening her desperation.

"Yes, yes, I understand that," Dr. Wakeman said softly. "I understand what you're saying, Sweetie, and I understand how you feel. Truly, I do. But the truth is that there are certain possibilities in life which you cannot ignore, and for which you must prepare. And one such possibility is that Sheldon's feelings toward you may have…" she paused, searching for just the right words. _"Evolved_ somewhat. And if that is so, then his behavior toward you will have likely changed as well. And it could even be for reasons that have nothing whatsoever to do with you. His life may simply…be on an entirely different trajectory now, and if that is so, then it might not ultimately matter what you might want, or what your intentions and motives are now."

"But—but he's just got to give me another chance!" Jenny cried, her pitch rising. "He's just got to! Why can't he understand that? Why's he being so stubborn? Can't he see what it means to me? Doesn't he care how I feel?"

Dr. Wakeman paused thoughtfully for a long time before she replied, gently . "Sweetie, perhaps the question you ought to be asking is, whether _you_ truly care about how _he_ feels."

Jenny gave a brief shake of her head. "I—I don't understand."

"Well, let me put it to you this way. Do you want Sheldon to be happy? I mean, truly happy?"

"Well, of course, Mom! That's what I'm saying! All I want is a second chance, so that I can—"

"Jenny, just listen to me. Please. What I'm saying is this: If you really truly care about Sheldon, if you really truly want him to be happy, then perhaps you ought to be prepared to simply…let him go. If that really, truly is what he wants…then be prepared…to simply let him go."

"But…but how do I _know_ if that's what he really wants?"

"I'm saying, _if_ it is, Sweetie," Dr. Wakeman said gently. _"If_ it is."

Jenny opened her mouth, as if to respond, then slowly closed it again. A long, heavy silence followed, as Jenny mulled over the full implications of her creator's words. Eventually however, she slowly lowered her head, and released a tiny resigned sob of acceptance.

Seeing this, Dr. Wakeman continued, in a more encouraging tone. "Now…again, I'm not saying your friendship with Sheldon is necessarily over," she said. "But _if_ it is, then at least you'll be able to say that you tried…right? You tried…and you've done everything you possibly could." She paused. "Isn't that true?"

Jenny sighed. "I…I know…it's just that…I hate to think that I… _failed,_ somehow... Failed _him!"_

Another long silence followed, finally broken by Dr. Wakeman, speaking very softly. "Well then Jenny, perhaps this might help," she said. "Have you ever heard of 'The Serenity Prayer?'"

Jenny shook her head.

"Well, it goes like this: _Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things that I can, and the wisdom always to know the difference.'"_ She recited the prayer slowly, carefully, allowing Jenny to fully absorb its meaning. "Now…please think about those words. Think about them very carefully." She advised. "Now…do you think you can see how their meaning applies here?"

"Yeah…yeah, I see what you mean!" Little by little, Jenny's mood gradually brightened, and a smile grew upon her features, as the meaning of the prayer became clear to her. "It means I should stop sitting around, moping and sulking and feeling sorry for myself, and instead, have the guts and the courage to take charge of the situation with Sheldon, and just do whatever I need to do to change it for the better! Just face it, deal with it and overcome it! Just like I would with any other challenge! And not let anything stop me!"

Dr. Wakeman blinked. "Um, well, XJ-9, that wasn't really—"

"And that's _exactly_ what I'm going to do, too!" Jenny said, patting a balled-up metallic fist decisively against her palm. "Up to now, I just haven't been assertive enough, that's all! That's been my whole problem, right from the beginning! I need to be more assertive! So from now on, I'm through being such a wuss and a wimp! Instead, I'm gonna work even _harder_ to make Sheldon like me again! No matter what it takes, by Jobs, I'm going to make Sheldon like me again if it's the last thing I ever do! And that's _that!"_

With a beaming smile, she concluded her vow with a tiny little nod to herself, as though firmly locking her new goal in place within her mind.

"But Sweetie, that really wasn't the point I was trying to—"

"Oh, but you're right, Mom! Don't you see? You're right! You are so right!" Jenny's mood was now positively incandescent, and she leapt from her chair and bounced over to her creator, embracing her with a big hug. "Thanks, Mom! Oh, I am _so_ glad we had this talk! I feel _way_ better now! 'Cuz now I know _just_ what I have to do!"

"But XJ-9, I don't think you quite understood the point of the—"

"Come on, Mom!" Jenny said, returning the steel chair to its place in the corner, before trotting back to the center of the holochamber. "Let's get back to the drill! Right now, I feel like a zillion dollars! Like I'm ready to take on _anything!_ So come on! We've still got a lot of practice to get in, if I'm gonna be ready to tackle that big doozy mega-improbability thing, right?" She grinned, hoping to re-engage her creator's enthusiasm for the task at hand, then resumed her combat-stance. "Come on, big doozy mega-improbability thing!" she exclaimed, now fully prepared for anything her creator could dish out. "Come on, ya big ugly! Jenny's ready for ya!"

Dr. Wakeman sighed and shrugged. _Oh, very well!_ She thought. _I can always clarify the true meaning of the Serenity Prayer some other time. Later on this evening, perhaps…_

She gave the verbal commands for the practice-drill simulation to resume, and the ashen-grey walls vanished, replaced by the virtual cityscape of the program. Another verbal command, and the Octo-Robo-Ninjas also re-appeared, their coiled steel tentacles raised menacingly as they faced off against Jenny.

"Commence drill," Dr. Wakeman commanded, and the program began its run. This time however, Jenny's performance was immediately and markedly improved. The speed of her reflexes and evasive moves had increased dramatically, so much so that she now easily dodged and maneuvered around the Ninja Squids, nimbly evading every blow and strike from their lashing tentacles, while simultaneously delivering a high number of counter-punches, pre-emptive blows and good, solid, on-target strikes of her own. She delivered her punches and kicks so swiftly in fact, that her opponents never seemed to see them coming. Her accuracy in weapons-fire had also vastly improved, to the point where her scores now averaged 95 direct on-target hits out of every hundred shots fired.

 _Good, good, very good…!_ Dr. Wakeman thought with an approving smile and a nod as she noted and recorded the results. _Now, let's try making_ _things a little bit more challenging for her…_

With that, she made a small adjustment to the holochamber's controls to randomize the fighting-styles and tactics of the Ninja Squids, mixing them up in order to keep Jenny guessing. She also activated a sub-routine that allowed them to learn from Jenny's own fighting style, adapt to them and even be able to anticipate some of her moves. But Jenny didn't seem too troubled by it; she noticed something was different, but regarded it as nothing more than a minor inconvenience, quickly adapting to it without a moment's hesitation. Without even thinking about it, she simply randomized her own fighting-techniques and tactics, mixing up her moves and styles, and switching from one to another even faster than the Ninjas could keep up with, let alone adjust to.

At one point in the drill, the "Alpha," or lead Ninja Squid caught Jenny unprepared with a lucky shot: a swift and unexpected swipe of its tentacle, which caught her just under the chin in a sharp uppercut. Her only response was to regard the Squid with a withering frown, and sneer, "Oh, you wanna get cute, huh? Well, let's see how you like _this,_ wiseguy!" With that, she immediately transformed into her multi-armed "Shiva" configuration, and coupled it with her multi-legged "Spider" configuration, after which she scrambled in low, fast and close to the Ninja, then leapt up and delivered a stunning, driving punch right between the eyes. She then followed up with a thundering torrent of lightning-quick punches and kicks all over the entire length of its body, effectively knocking the fight out of it within seconds and sending it to the ground with a resounding crash. She then turned to face the other Squids, now encircling her from all sides.

"You wanna dance too, pretty-boys?" she called out as she patted a balled-up metallic fist against a palm. "Well, bring it on! I'm ready for ya!"

The Ninja Squids hesitated for only a moment, then lunged at her, one by one, their tentacles all reaching out as if to grab and ensnare her, only to receive the exact same treatment and meet the exact same fate as their leader had only moments earlier. In seconds, each of the Ninja Squids received a good, sound pummeling from Jenny before being cast limply aside like so many scraps of garbage.

With the last Ninja Squid now safely out of the way, she re-configured back into her usual configuration of two arms and two legs, fired up her ponytail-jets and soared high into the air, her fists raised aloft in a victory pose.

"And the Blue Plate Special for tonight," she cried triumphantly with a beaming smile. "Battered Calamari à la Jenny!"

Dr. Wakeman smiled at Jenny's little joke, as well as at the restored excellence of her fighting skills. _Impressive!_ She thought with a tiny, approving nod. _Very impressive! Now let's try pulling out all the stops, and see how she handles it…!_

She then adjusted the controls for the holochamber once more, to combine _all_ the elements from the previous drills into one: the Ninja Squids, the Megadroids, the 4-armed Sumo Hamsters, and the Cyber Hydra, all now surrounded Jenny at once.

 _Huh! Piece of cake!_ She thought with a crooked smile, as she eyed her many opponents, flexing her metallic fists.

In a flash, all the opponents charged Jenny at once from all directions. But they barely even fazed her. Instead, she proceeded to systematically punch, kick and pummel the daylights out of each and every one of them, one right after the other, just as quickly as they came within her field of view. Her reaction-speed had by now reached such an enhanced degree that she almost seemed to anticipate the moves of her opponents _before_ they'd happened, easily ducking any offensive blows, while delivering good, solid, punches and crushing roundhouse kicks. Her accuracy with her weapons had also increased, to the point where she now almost never missed, every rocket blast or laser strike unerringly reaching its mark.

She also continued to transform into various configurations, mixing and matching from shape to shape at such a dizzying rate that her opponents couldn't keep up, let alone mount an effective defense against her. In minutes, they were all left dazed and reeling like punch-drunk boxers in a ring.

She was just about to begin finishing them off one by one when she was suddenly seized from behind by something grabbing her by the wrists and ankles and pulling them taught, spread-eagle fashion, immobilizing her.

She swiveled her head around to face her attacker. It was none other than the lead Ninja Squid. "Oh, _you_ again, huh?!" she grumbled. "Well, I've just about had it with you, pal!"

With that, she fired up her ponytail-jets and shot straight up into the air like a rocket, where she hovered for a moment, then doubled over in one quick motion to bring her wrists and ankles close together. She then began to spin like a top, whipping the squid around her in circles like a sling. Faster and faster she spun in a mid-air pirouette, gradually increasing her speed to 100 RPM, then 200, then 300.

When the speed reached 360 RPM, the Squid blacked out and lost consciousness, and slackened its grip on her wrists and ankles. The moment it did, Jenny swiveled her hands around in a quick snap of her wrists to grab all eight of the Squid's now-limp tentacles. Then with one swift motion, she heaved it over her head and began using it as a club to beat down the few remaining opponents still left standing. One after the other, they were knocked down and swept aside. It was a crude method, but an effective one, which allowed her to conclude the drill in a clear, decisive victory.

Settling down gently on the floor again, Jenny casually tossed the Ninja-Squid-turned-club over her shoulder and looked hopefully over to her creator.

Dr. Wakeman regarded Jenny with a reserved but pleased smile and nodded. "That's enough for today." She said. "Computer, stop program. Save results and close."

The simulated cityscape vanished, immediately returning to the grid-lined ashen-grey holochamber interior. Jenny eased out of her combat-mode, and trotted excitedly over to her creator's side. Even before she spoke, her elation was evident.

"Well Mom, how did I do?" she asked jubilantly. "Did I do okay? It _felt_ like I did better this time!"

"Yes, yes," Dr. Wakeman murmured, as she jotted down notes of Jenny's performance-statistics, copying them from a nearby computer-display. "Your performance _was_ much improved this time… Far above the normal curve, in fact."

She tried to sound coldly clinical and objective, but she couldn't ignore the significance of what she'd just witnessed. Clearly, Jenny's performance was greatly affected by her moods: she had performed much better when she was _happy,_ or at least _hopeful_ about something.

 _Fascinating…!_ Dr. Wakeman thought as she scanned the drill results. _XJ-9's combat-performance greatly enhanced by improved morale! Just as with any living organism! I must analyze and detail these results more fully when I type up my notes later on this evening!_

She looked up at her creation, and regarded her in awed silence for a long moment. _Even now,_ she thought, _there's still something new to discover about XJ-9 all the time…!_

Jenny noticed her creator's sudden silent stare. "Is something wrong, Mom?" she asked.

Dr. Wakeman smiled and shook her head. "No, no," she said. "Everything is satisfactory. You've performed very well today."

"Oh, okay. Um…since we're through for the day, can I go next door and hang out with Brad and Tuck for awhile?"

Dr. Wakeman nodded. "Very well," she said. "You've worked very hard this afternoon, so you deserve a few hours' recreation, I think."

"Okay, thanks, Mom!" Jenny gave her creator a quick hug, then turned and trotted out of the holochamber and upstairs.

"But don't stay too late," Dr. Wakeman added. "This is still a school night, remember."

"I know, I won't," Jenny replied as the front door closed behind her.

A quizzical smile appeared over Dr. Wakeman's features. _I wonder,_ she thought. _Is it right for a scientist to feel pride in the performance of her creation? Like a parent taking pride in the achievements of her child?_

She pondered the question for another few moments, then dismissed it, choosing instead to focus on the task of organizing her notes into various folders.

* * *

Sheldon sat at his desk, studiously jotting down notes on sheets of lined binder-paper, periodically checking specific passages in the open textbook before him.

 _Man, this stuff's getting easier all the time!_ He thought, grinning. _I thought it'd be getting tougher toward the end of the term, but instead, it's getting easier! I'm getting it done in just a fraction of the time now! Which means I'll have even more free time later on! And all weekend long, just ahead of me!_

But then he remembered. _A whole weekend…to do_ _what_ _, exactly?_ He asked himself.

He was still grounded, of course, so there would be no leaving the house, no workshop-privileges, no visits to _Legendary Warriors_ to buy comic-books or for gaming-sessions with his friends, _nothing._ House-arrest, basically. _Terrific!_ He thought grimly, his ever-so-brief smile now replaced by a gloomy frown.

He still had his books of course, his magazines, his graphic-novels and mangas, and the few comic-books he hadn't already read several times, and—fortunately—internet-access, one of the few privileges his mother still permitted him. (Though it took a great deal of persuasion on his part to get her to agree to it; he finally convinced her by pointing out that he still occasionally needed it for school work.)

But in spite of these diversions, Sheldon was still _bored._ If only he could get into his workshop again, he thought, and get his hands on something _physical,_ something _tangible,_ something _real_ to work on, that would be something, at least. He could get started on some new projects, finish up some old ones, basically work on something, _anything,_ just to work off steam and pent-up nervous energy, but…no, it was out of the question.

 _A few more days of this,_ he thought with an exasperated sigh, _and I'm gonna start climbing the walls!_

He took a deep breath and re-focused his attention back onto his nearly-completed homework. He jotted down the last few lines of the assignment, then tossed the pen aside with a triumphant flourish. _Finished!_ He thought with a relieved smile, as he leaned back in his chair, yawned widely and stretched. He closed the textbook, slipped the pages of the completed assignment into the appropriate section of his binder, then slipped the textbook and binder into his backpack and set it down beside the desk, ready for the morning.

He rose from his chair, still stretching, and walked over to his bed, picking up a fifth-read comic book from the nightstand, left there from the night before. Flopping onto his bed, he opened the comic and began flipping through the pages.

 _Man, I'm running out of stuff to read!_ He thought, barely skimming the pages. _Only a couple more after this one and then what…? Well…I still have some science-fiction novels I haven't gotten around to yet … Maybe I can get started on one of those… I've been meaning to read_ _The Star Yeast_ _for some time now… Maybe I'll start reading that next…_

He flipped through a few more pages when the phone on the nightstand rang. He reached over and picked it up.

"Hello?" he said, then paused. "Oh hi, Mom." Another pause. "Yeah, I just finished it, just now. A couple of minutes ago."

He paused again, listening. "Oh…I don't know…" he said. "I thought I'd just read. Or maybe fool around on the Internet for awhile." He paused and rolled his eyes, then replied with an exasperated, "No, Mom! No, I'm not gonna do that! I never look at those websites, you know that!" He began to blush. "'Cuz I just don't, that's all! Jeez, you oughta know me better than that by now." His blush deepened, and he wished his mother would change the subject.

He took a deep breath and listened for another minute, then replied, "No…no, I haven't eaten yet." He paused. "Oh, you did? Well, thanks, Mom. No…no, I'll probably just nuke it in the microwave or something. Or maybe eat it cold. No, no, it's okay; no big."

Another long pause followed, before he replied with a disappointed. "Oh, you do, huh? Oh… Okay… No…no, I understand… I know… Work comes first, I totally get that. Well, um…what time do you think you'll be home, then?" He paused. "Oh, that late, huh? No, no, it's okay… It's totally not a problem… I just wondered, that's all. Yeah, I'll probably be asleep by then. Okay... Talk to you later. 'Bye, Mom." He hung up the phone, stretched again as he rose from his bed, then walked back to his desk and switched on his computer.

 _I wonder if Gordo or Phred heard anything more about the Captain Crush movie…_ he wondered. _I know Gerard doesn't think it's gonna happen, but he's such a pessimist and so negative about everything all the time, you can't really go by much of anything he says…_

The computer finished booting up and Sheldon immediately logged into his email account. He'd been so preoccupied with his extra homework over the past week that he'd pretty much ignored his email. Not that he ever received that many messages from anyone anyway; mostly all he ever got was spam. He was therefore quite surprised to discover that he now had quite a few messages queued up in his inbox.

 _Wow, look at them all!_ He thought. _They sure piled up fast!_

He scrolled through the long list of messages, looking for the one from Gordo that he'd been hoping for and spotted it, with the headline, _'Crush Flick to Click.'_

 _There it is!_ he thought. _That's gotta be it! The article he was talking about during lunch today!_

He was just about to click on it when he noticed that it was preceded by at least a dozen emails from Jenny.

 _Jenny?_ He thought with a puzzled frown. _That can't be right... Why in the world would she suddenly start emailing me? And why so many? It's gotta be a mistake…or something…_

He was just about to click on one to examine when he hesitated at the last moment. _Oh wait, I know what it is!_ He thought. _I bet it's a spammer or something! That's what it's got to be! Just another dumb spammer. Somebody must've somehow hacked into Jenny's email account, and now they're using it to send junk emails to everyone on her mailing-list. Sure, that's gotta be it… It's probably somebody trying to sell me a luxury timeshare in Alviso, or somebody claiming to be a long-lost prince of Wakanda, needing help to claim their inheritance or something… Sure, that's all it is... Ah well... Next time I see her in school tomorrow, I'll let her know her email's been hacked into… If I think of it…_

With that, Sheldon passed over Jenny's emails without another thought, opening up Gordo's email instead. He then clicked on the attached link in the message to bring up the article they'd discussed earlier in the day. He read the article thoroughly, then left some comments and opinions of his own in the 'comments' field below, which soon prompted a series of responses from other readers. He then responded with further comments of his own, and before long, he found himself embroiled in the middle of an increasingly heated and contentious online debate with four other readers. The debate so absorbed his full energy and attention for the remainder of the evening (interrupted only by short breaks for a bite to eat and a quick trip to the bathroom) that every other matter had been completely banished from his mind.

At last, after hours of blistering online debate, and with his energy waning and his bedtime rapidly approaching, Sheldon finally decided to call a night and logged off. He rose wearily from his desk, now thoroughly exhausted, and shuffled groggily into the bathroom where he took a shower. After emerging a short while later, he flopped straight into bed, and almost immediately dropped off to sleep, without even bothering to read first, the way he normally did.

Jenny's long series of emails remained unread, and were now completely forgotten.

* * *

End Chapter 6


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